ALONG the garden ways just now I heard the flowers speak; The white rose told me of your brow, The red rose of your cheek; The lily of your bended head, The bindweed of your hair: Each looked its loveliest and said You were more fair. I went into the wood anon, And heard the wild birds sing How sweet you were; they warbled on, Piped, trilled the self-same thing. Thrush, blackbird, linnet, without pause, The burden did repeat, And still began again because You were more sweet. And then I went down to the sea, And heard it murmuring too, Part of an ancient mystery, All made of me and you. How many a thousand years ago I loved, and you were sweet— Longer I could not stay, and so I fled back to your feet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD OSAWATOMIE by CARL SANDBURG LINES WRITTEN AT THE GRAVE OF ALEXANDER DUMAS by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT A CRADLE SONG by WILLIAM BLAKE VANQUISHED; ON THE DEATH OF GENERAL GRANT by FRANCIS FISHER BROWNE TO FINE LADY WOULD-BE by BEN JONSON |