SWEET Iphigenia-soul of every day, Fair vine so trellised to the parent-stay Thou hast no single force, no separate will, But leaning grow'st, and flowering, leanest still; In that walled garden where thou dwell'st alone Thou art the whitest blossom ever known! Less full and ample than our English rose Whose generous freshness floods the garden-close, And less confiding to the gatherer's hand Than their forget-me-not o' the Fatherland, Yet, O French Lily, pure and grown apart, Thee none the less I treasure next my heart! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE IRISH RAPPAREES; A PEASANT BALLAD OF 1691 by CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY ODE ON SOLITUDE (FINAL PRINTED VERSION) by ALEXANDER POPE THE LOST CHORD by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER A MORNING HYMN by CHARLES WESLEY FROM A YOUNG WOMAN TO AN OLD OFFICER WHO COURTED HER by ELIZABETH FRANCES AMHERST BALLAD OF THE SABRE CROSS AND 7 by IRVING BACHELLER SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 42. 'GRECIAN AND ENGLISH' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |