Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower, But I could never sell- If you would like to borrow, Until the Daffodil Unties her yellow Bonnet Beneath the village door, Until the Bees, from Clover rows Their Hock, and Sherry, draw, Why, I will lend until just then, But not an hour more! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE WOMAN by HAYDEN CARRUTH SONNET TO THOSE WHO SEE BUT DARKLY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IRELAND; WRITTEN FOR THE ART AUTOGRAPH DURING IRISH FAMINE by SIDNEY LANIER CHILD OF MY HEART by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: WIDOW FORTELKA by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |