IF the rose of all flowers be the rarest That heaven may adore from above, And the fervent moss-rose be the fairest That sweetens the summer with love, Can it be that a fairer than any Should blossom afar from the tree? Yet one, and a symbol of many, Shone sudden for eyes that could see. In the grime and the gloom of November The bliss and the bloom of July Bade autumn rejoice and remember The balm of the blossoms gone by. Would you know what moss-rose now it maybe That puts all the rest to the blush, The flower was the face of a baby, The moss was a bonnet of plush. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 88. A DAY IN SUSSEX by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT CHRISTMAS HYMN by HARRIET AUBER THE CAPTAIN by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD HYMN OF THE WALDENSES by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT A GRACE BEFORE DINNER by ROBERT BURNS FINIS by ELLEN MAGRATH CARROLL |