Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet

(5 December 1820 - 3 December 1892 / Novosyolky)

The September Rose


To sighs of morning air, that froze,-
(With her lips opened for a say),
How curiously has smiled the rose
On a September fleeting day!

And how has she ever dared
To greet, with air of springy queens,
The single blue-tit, in the bare
Shrubs fleshing in the orb of wings;

To bloom with steadfast dream that later,
Just leaving her cold bed in rest,
She’ll cling, the last and dissipated,
To a young hostess’s charming breast!

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

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Read poems about / on: september, rose, dream, smile

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