YOU held a wild-flower in your finger-tips, Idly you pressed it to indifferent lips, Idly you tore its crimson leaves apart, .. Alas! it was my heart. You held a wine-cup in your finger-tips, Lightly you raised it to indifferent lips, Lightly you drank and flung away the bowl ... Alas! it was my soul. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE AUDACIOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A FLORIDA SUNDAY by SIDNEY LANIER APPLES OF HESPERIDES by AMY LOWELL THE MAN WITH THE WOODEN LEG by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: WILLIAM JONES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NIGHT AND DAY: 4 by ISAAC ROSENBERG VILLAGE IN LATE SUMMER by CARL SANDBURG |