Ah Me, If I Grew Sweet To Man Poem by Michael Field
Ah Me, If I Grew Sweet To Man
Ah me, if I grew sweet to man
It was but as a rose that can
No longer keep the breath that heaves
And swells among its folded leaves.
The pressing fragrance would unclose
The flower, and I become a rose,
That unimpeachable and fair
Planted its sweetness in the air.
No art I used men's love to draw;
I lived but by my being's law,
As roses are by heaven designed
To bring the honey to the wind.
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8/1/2026 8:51:53 AM # rel_20260727T173023Z_37e450e
