I THE odor from the flower is gone, Which like thy kisses breathed on me; The color from the flower is flown, Which glowed of thee, and only thee! II A shrivelled, lifeless, vacant form, It lies on my abandoned breast, And mocks the heart, which yet is warm, With cold and silent rest. III I weep -- my tears revive it not; I sigh -- it breathes no more on me; Its mute and uncomplaining lot Is such as mine should be. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ECHO [OR, ECHOES] by THOMAS MOORE A CHRISTMAS CAROL by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE ROOTS AND LEAVES THEMSELVES ALONE by WALT WHITMAN THE SISTERS by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS THE KNIGHTS: DEMOS REJUVENATED by ARISTOPHANES DEATH AND THE MONK by ARTHUR E. BAKER AND THE DREAMERS OF DREAMS by JOHN OSCAR BECK NIGHT WATCHERS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE LITTLE FRIEND; WRITTEN IN THE BOOK WHICH SHE MADE & SENT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |