IT chanced on the noon of an April day A dragon-fly passed in its sunward play And furled his flight for a passing hour To drain the life of a passion-flower. ... Who cares if a ruined blossom die, O bright blue wandering dragon-fly? Love came, with his ivory flute, His pleading eye, and his wingèd foot. "I am weary," he murmured; "O let me rest In the sheltering joy of your fragrant breast." At dawn he fled and he left no token. ... Who cares if a woman's heart be broken? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEMANTICS OF FLOWERS ON MEMORIAL DAY by BOB HICOK ISOLATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE CROSS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE WIZARD IN WORDS by MARIANNE MOORE TO DISRAELI ON CONSERVATISM by MARIANNE MOORE |