The Fallen Rose Poem by Edmund William Gosse
The Fallen Rose
LIFE, like an overweighted shaken rose,
Falls, in a cloud of colour, to my feet;
Its petals strew my first November snows,
Too soon, too fleet!
'Twas my own breath had blown the leaves apart,
My own hot eyelids stirred them where they lay;
It was the tumult of my own bright heart
Broke them away.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: november,colour,leaves,rose
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