(November 11, 1836 – March 19, 1907 / Portsmouth, New Hampshire)

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A Petition

To spring belongs the violet, and the blown
Spice of the roses let the summer own.
Grant me this favor, Muse--all else withhold--
That I may not write verse when I am old.

And yet I pray you, Muse, delay the time!
Be not too ready to deny me rhyme;
And when the hour strikes, as it must, dear Muse,
I beg you very gently break the news.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003


Read poems about / on: summer, spring, time, rose

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