That was Yvette. The blithe Ambassadeurs Glitters, this Sunday of the Fete des Fleurs; Here are the flowers, too, living flowers that blow A night or two before the odours go; And all the flowers of all the city ways Are laughing, with Yvette, this day of days. Laugh, with Yvette? But I must first forget, Before I laugh, that I have heard Yvette. For the flowers fade before her; see, the light Dies out of that poor cheek, and leaves it white; She sings of life, and mirth, and all that moves Man's fancy in the carnival of loves; And a chill shiver takes me as she sings The pity of unpitied human things. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A MOUSE, ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH by ROBERT BURNS ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC by JOHN DRYDEN THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) THE CORAL GROVE by JAMES GATES PERCIVAL THE DYING SWAN by ALFRED TENNYSON BLESSING THE LIGHTS by ALTER ABELSON VERSES FOR A GUEST ROOM by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |