She holds a lily in her hand, Where long ranks of Angels stand; A silver lily for her wand. All her hair falls sweeping down, Her hair that is a golden brown; A crown beneath her golden crown. Blooms a rose-bush at her knee, Good to smell and good to see; It bears a rose for her, for me: Her rose a blossom richly grown, My rose a bud not fully blown But sure one day to be mine own. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BUNCH OF GRAPES by GEORGE HERBERT DEATH OF THE DAY by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 1 by EZRA POUND CELIA'S HOMECOMING by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON ENVOY: 2. TO MY MOTHER by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON UNDERWOODS: BOOK 2: 16. THE DEAREST FRIENDS ARE THE AULDEST FRIENDS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON TO TWO BEREAVED by THOMAS ASHE |