'A CUP for hope!' she said, In springtime ere the bloom was old; The crimson wine was poor and cold By her mouth's richer red. 'A cup for love!' how low, How soft the words; and all the while Her blush was rippling with a smile Like summer after snow. 'A cup for memory!' Cold cup that one must drain alone: While autumn winds are up and moan Across the barren sea. Hope, memory, love: Hope for fair morn, and love for day, And memory for the evening grey And solitary dove. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CURFEW MUST NOT RING TONIGHT by ROSE HARTWICK THORPE THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 10. THE PALATINE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE OLD CUMBERLAND BEGGAR by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE STRANGER by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA HYMN TO FIRE by KONSTANTIN DMITRIYEVICH BALMONT TO HIS WORSHIPFULL WEL-WILLER, MAISTER EDWARD LEIGH by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE FIERCE BIRDS by VALERY YAKOVLEVICH BRYUSOV THE BOHEMIANS OF BOSTON AND THEIR WAYS; A MEMORY OF THE JACOBEAN CRAZE by FRANK GELETT BURGESS |