LOOK at the fate of summer flowers, Which blow at daybreak, droop e'er evensong; And, grieved for their brief date, confess that ours, Measured by what we are and ought to be, Measured by all that, trembling, we foresee, Is not so long! If human Life do pass away, Perishing yet more swiftly than the flower, If we are creatures of a 'winter's' day; What space hath Virgin's beauty to disclose Her sweets, and triumph o'er the breathing rose? Not even an hour! The deepest grove whose foliage hid The happiest lovers Arcady might boast, Could not the entrance of this thought forbid: O be thou wise as they, soul-gifted Maid! Nor rate too high what must so quickly fade, So soon be lost. Then shall love teach some virtuous Youth "To draw, out of the object of his eyes," The while on thee they gaze in simple truth, Hues more exalted, "a refined Form," That dreads not age, nor suffers from the worm, And never dies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POSSUM SONG (A WARNING) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TOWERS OF SIMON RODIA; FOR HOWARD W. SWENSON 1903-1081 by KAREN SWENSON TWO IN THE CAMPAGNA by ROBERT BROWNING A THANKSGIVING TO GOD [FOR HIS HOUSE] by ROBERT HERRICK THE PHANTOM SHIP by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW FOR MY OWN TOMBSTONE by MATTHEW PRIOR |