Go, flaunting Rose! Tell her that wastes her love on thee, That she nought knows Of the New Cult, Intensity, If sweet and fair to her you be. Tell her that's young, Or who in health and bloom takes pride, That bards have sung Of a new youth --at whose sad side Sickness and pallor aye abide. Small is the worth Of Beauty in crude charms attired. She must shun mirth, Have suffered, fruitlessly desired, And wear no flush by hope inspired. Then die, that she May learn that Death is passing fair; May read in thee How little of Art's praise they share, Who are not sallow, sick, and spare! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WISDOM COMETH WITH THE YEARS by COUNTEE CULLEN TUNK (A LECTURE ON MODERN EDUCATION) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ON A PALMETTO by SIDNEY LANIER HOUSE WITH THE MARBLE STEPS by AMY LOWELL THE MIDDLETON PLACE by AMY LOWELL |