THOSE few pale autumn flowers! How beautiful they are! Than all that went before, Than all the summer store, How lovelier far! And why? -- they are the @3last@1 -- The last! -- the last! -- the last! -- Oh, by that little word, How many thoughts are stirr'd! That sister of the past! Pale flowers! -- pale, perishing flowers! Ye're types of precious things; Types of those bitter moments That flit, like life's enjoyments, On rapid, rapid wings. Last hours with parting dear ones, (That time the fastest spends,) Last tears, in silence shed, Last words, half-uttered, Last looks of dying friends! Who but would fain compress A life into a day; The last day spent with one Who, ere the morrow's sun, Must leave us, and for aye? O precious, precious moments! Pale flowers! ye're types of those -- The saddest! sweetest! dearest! Because, like those, the nearest Is an eternal close. Pale flowers! Pale, perishing flowers! I woo your gentle breath; I leave the summer rose For younger, blither brows -- Tell me of change and death! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE QUESTION by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON REVELATION by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY by ALEXANDER POPE SONG, FR. THE TWO GENTELEM OF VERONA by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 11 by ALFRED TENNYSON PENTRIDGE BY THE RIVER by WILLIAM BARNES THE RUSSIAN STUDENT'S TALE by MATHILDE BLIND THE MOUNTAIN STORM by MILLARD FILLMORE BUMGARNER EPITAPH ON NOISY POLEMIC (BURNS'S 'BLETH'RIN BITCH') by ROBERT BURNS |