Welcome , dear Heart, and a most kind good-morrow;
The day is gloomy, but our looks shall shine: —
Flowers I have none to give thee, but I borrow
Their sweetness in a verse to speak for thine.


Here are red roses, gather'd at thy cheeks,
The white were all too happy to look white:
For love the rose, for faith the lily speaks;
It withers in false hands, but here 'tis bright!


Dost love sweet Hyacinth? Its scented leaf
Curls manifold, — all love's delights blow double:
'Tis said this flow'ret is inscribed with grief, —
But let that hint of a forgotten trouble.


I pluck'd the Primrose at night's dewy noon;
Like Hope, it show'd its blossoms in the night; —
'Twas, like Endymion, watching for the Moon!
And here are sunflowers, amorous of light!


These golden Buttercups are April's seal, —
The Daisy stars her constellations be:
These grew so lowly, I was forced to kneel,
Therefore I pluck no Daisies but for thee!


Here's Daisies for the morn, Primrose for gloom,
Pansies and Roses for the noontide hours: —
A wight once made a dial of their bloom, —
So may thy life be measured out by flowers!
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.