The breeze that used to blow thee
The bee that once did suck thee,
A Dead Rose
Though seeing now those changes that disguise thee.
And build thy perfumed ambers up his hive,
Till beam appeared to bloom, and flower to burn,---99lib•net
The fly that lit upon thee,
If lighting now,---would coldly overrun thee.
But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubble-wheat,---
It lay upon thee where the crimson was,---
More love, dead rose! than to such roses bold
Yes, and the九_九_藏_书_网 heart doth owe thee
Lie still upon this heart---which breaks below thee!
And swoon in thee for joy, till scarce alive,---
O Rose! who dares to name thee?
And, white first, grow incarnadined, because
Elizabeth Barrett Browning９９lｉｂ•ｎet
If breathing now,---unsweetened would forego thee.
Alone, alone! The heart doth smell thee sweet,
As Julia wears at dances, smiling cold!---
An odour up the lane to last all day,---
And mix his glory in thy gorgeous urn,
To stretch the tendrils of its tiny feet,
Between the hedgerow thorns, and take away
The heart doth recognise thee,
Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete,---
The dew that used to wet thee,
If shining now,---with not a hue would light thee.
Kept seven y九九藏书网ears in a drawer---thy titles shame thee.
If dropping now,---would darken where it met thee.
The sun that used to smite thee,
If passing now,---would blindly overlook thee.
No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet;
Along thy leafs pure edges, after heat,---