Home ⇒ 📌Mary Darby Robinson ⇒ The Faded Bouquet
The Faded Bouquet
FAIR was this blushing ROSE of May,
And fresh it hail’d morn’s breezy hour,
When ev’ry spangled leaf look’d gay,
Besprinkled with the twilight show’r;
When to its mossy buds so sweet,
The BUTTERFLY enamour’d flew,
And hov’ring o’er the fragrant treat,
Oft bath’d its silken wings in dew.
SWEET was this PRIMROSE of the dale,
When on its native turf it grew;
And deck’d with charms this LILY pale,
And rich this VIOLET’S purple hue;
This od’rous WOODBINE fill’d the grove
With musky gales of balmy pow’r;
When with the MYRTLE interwove
It hung luxuriant round my bow’r.
AH! ROSE, forgive the hand severe,
That snatch’d thee from thy scented bed;
Where, bow’d with many a pearly tear,
Thy widow’d partner droops its head;
And thou, sweet VI’LET, modest flow’r,
Nor stain the breast whose glowing pow’r,
With too much fondness bade thee die.
SWEET LILY had I never gaz’d
With rapture on your gentle form;
You might have dy’d, unknown, unprais’d,
The victim of some ruthless storm;
Where fickle LOVE his altar rears,
Your little bells had learnt to wave;
Or sadly gemm’d with kindred tears,
Had deck’d some hapless MAIDEN’s grave.
Inconstant WOODBINE, wherefore rove
With gadding stem about my bow’r?
Why, with my darling MYRTLE wove,
In bold defiance mock my pow’r?
Why quit thy native, lonely vale,
To flaunt thy buds, thy odours fling;
And idly greet the passing gale,
On ev’ry wanton zephyr’s wing?
Yet, yet, repine not, tho’ stern FATE
Hath nipp’d thy leaves of varying hue;
Since all that’s lovely, soon or late,
Shall sick’ning, fade,and die like you.
The fire of YOUTHthe frost of AGE,
Nor WISDOM S voicenor BEAUTY’S bloom,
Th’ insatiate tyrant can assuage,
Or stop the hand that seal’d YOUR DOOM.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)Related poetry:
- When the Rose is Faded When the rose is faded, Memory may still dwell on Her beauty shadowed, And the sweet smell gone. That vanishing loveliness, That burdening breath, No bond of life hath then, Nor grief of death. ‘Tis the immortal thought Whose passion still Makes the changing The unchangeable. Oh, thus thy beauty, Loveliest on earth to me, […]...
- With a Bouquet of Twelve Roses I saw Lord Buddha towering by my gate Saying: “Once more, good youth, I stand and wait.” Saying: “I bring you my fair Law of Peace And from your withering passion full release; Release from that white hand that stabbed you so. The road is calling. With the wind you go, Forgetting her imperious disdain […]...
- The Faded Flower Ungrateful he, who pluck’d thee from thy stalk, Poor faded flow’ret! on his careless way; Inhal’d awhile thy odours on his walk, Then onward pass’d and left thee to decay. Ah! melancholy emblem! had I seen Thy modest beauties dew’d with Evening’s gem, I had not rudely cropp’d thy parent stem, But left thee, blushing, […]...
- Sonnet 99: The forward violet thus did I chide The forward violet thus did I chide: “Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love’s breath? The purple pride Which on thy soft check for complexion dwells In my love’s veins thou hast too grossly dyed.” The lily I condemnèd for thy hand, And buds of marjoram had […]...
- Sonnet XCIX The forward violet thus did I chide: Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love’s breath? The purple pride Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells In my love’s veins thou hast too grossly dyed. The lily I condemned for thy hand, And buds of marjoram had […]...
- 326. Song-The Posie O LUVE will venture in where it daur na weel be seen, O luve will venture in where wisdom ance has been; But I will doun yon river rove, amang the wood sae green, And a’ to pu’ a Posie to my ain dear May. The primrose I will pu’, the firstling o’ the year, […]...
- Chanson A ring of gold and a milk-white dove Are goodly gifts for thee, And a hempen rope for your own love To hang upon a tree. For you a House of Ivory, (Roses are white in the rose-bower)! A narrow bed for me to lie, (White, O white, is the hemlock flower)! Myrtle and jessamine […]...
- Sonnet XXXIX: Prepare Your Wreaths Prepare your wreaths, Aonian maids divine, To strew the tranquil bed where I shall sleep; In tears, the myrtle and the laurel steep, And let Erato’s hand the trophies twine. No parian marble, there, with labour’d line, Shall bid the wand’ring lover stay to weep; There holy silence shall her vigils keep. Save, when the […]...
- Stanzas to Flora LET OTHERS wreaths of ROSES twine With scented leaves of EGLANTINE; Enamell’d buds and gaudy flow’rs, The pride of FLORA’S painted bow’rs; Such common charms shall ne’er be wove Around the brows of him I LOVE. Fair are their beauties for a day, But swiftly do they fade away; Each PINK sends forth its choicest […]...
- Lily-Bell and Thistledown Song II Thistledown in prison sings: Bright shines the summer sun, Soft is the summer air; Gayly the wood-birds sing, Flowers are blooming fair. But, deep in the dark, cold rock, Sadly I dwell, Longing for thee, dear friend, Lily-Bell! Lily-Bell! Lily-Bell replies: Through sunlight and summer air I have sought for thee long, Guided by birds […]...
- Come Into The Garden, Maud Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, Night, has flown, Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the roses blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint […]...
- A faded Boy in sallow Clothes A faded Boy in sallow Clothes Who drove a lonesome Cow To pastures of Oblivion A statesman’s Embryo The Boys that whistled are extinct The Cows that fed and thanked Remanded to a Ballad’s Barn Or Clover’s Retrospect...
- The Willow On sweet young earth where the myrtle presses, Long we lay, when the May was new; The willow was winding the moon in her tresses, The bud of the rose was told with dew. And now on the brittle ground I’m lying, Screaming to die with the dead year’s dead; The stem of the rose […]...
- Flowers I will not have the mad Clytie, Whose head is turned by the sun; The tulip is a courtly queen, Whom, therefore, I will shun; The cowslip is a country wench, The violet is a nun; – But I will woo the dainty rose, The queen of everyone. The pea is but a wanton witch, […]...
- The Three Roses When the buds began to burst, Long ago, with Rose the First I was walking; joyous then Far above all other men, Till before us up there stood Britonferry’s oaken wood, Whispering, “Happy as thou art, Happiness and thou must part.” Many summers have gone by Since a Second Rose and I (Rose from the […]...
- Stanzas to the Rose SWEET PICTURE of Life’s chequer’d hour! Ah, wherefore droop thy blushing head? Tell me, oh tell me, hap’less flow’r, Is it because thy charms are fled? Come, gentle ROSE, and learn from me A lesson of Philosophy. Thy scented buds, LIFE’S joys disclose; They strew our paths with magic sweets; Where many a thorn like […]...
- 400. Song-Lovely young Jessie TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o’ the Yarrow, And fair are the maids on the banks of the Ayr; But by the sweet side o’ the Nith’s winding river, Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair: To equal young JESSIE seek Scotland all over; To equal young JESSIE you seek it in […]...
- 428. Song-Phillis the Queen o' the fair ADOWN winding Nith I did wander, To mark the sweet flowers as they spring; Adown winding Nith I did wander, Of Phillis to muse and to sing. Chorus.-Awa’ wi’ your belles and your beauties, They never wi’ her can compare, Whaever has met wi’ my Phillis, Has met wi’ the queen o’ the fair. The […]...
- 318. Song-The Banks o' Doon (Third Version) YE banks and braes o’ bonie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons thro’ the flowering thorn: Thou minds me o’ departed joys, Departed never to return. Aft hae I […]...
- FROM THE MOUNTAIN [Written just after the preceding one, on a Mountain overlooking the Lake of Zurich.] IF I, dearest Lily, did not love thee, How this prospect would enchant my sight! And yet if I, Lily, did not love thee, Could I find, or here, or there, delight? 1775....
- Lines Written by the Side of a River FLOW soft RIVER, gently stray, Still a silent waving tide O’er thy glitt’ring carpet glide, While I chaunt my ROUNDELAY, As I gather from thy bank, Shelter’d by the poplar dank, King-cups, deck’d in golden pride, Harebells sweet, and daisies pied; While beneath the evening sky, Soft the western breezes fly. Gentle RIVER, should’st thou […]...
- Sonnet XIII: Bring, Brick to Deck My Brow Bring, bring to deck my brow, ye Sylvan girls, A roseate wreath; nor for my waving hair The costly band of studded gems prepare, Of sparkling crysolite or orient pearls: Love, o’er my head his canopy unfurls, His purple pinions fan the whisp’ring air; Mocking the golden sandal, rich and rare, Beneath my feet the […]...
- 312. Elegy on the late Miss Burnet of Monboddo LIFE ne’er exulted in so rich a prize, As Burnet, lovely from her native skies; Nor envious death so triumph’d in a blow, As that which laid th’ accomplish’d Burnet low. Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget? In richest ore the brightest jewel set! In thee, high Heaven above was truest shown, […]...
- O Gather Me the Rose O gather me the rose, the rose, While yet in flower we find it, For summer smiles, but summer goes, And winter waits behind it. For with the dream foregone, foregone, The deed foreborn forever, The worm Regret will canker on, And time will turn him never. So were it well to love, my love, […]...
- Love and a Question A stranger came to the door at eve, And he spoke the bridegroom fair. He bore a green-white stick in his hand, And, for all burden, care. He asked with the eyes more than the lips For a shelter for the night, And he turned and looked at the road afar Without a window light. […]...
- The Passionate Shepherd To His Love Come live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That hills and valleys, dales and fields, And all the craggy mountain yields. There we will sit upon the rocks, And see the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will […]...
- Ode to Beauty EXULTING BEAUTY,phantom of an hour, Whose magic spells enchain the heart, Ah! what avails thy fascinating pow’r, Thy thrilling smile, thy witching art? Thy lip, where balmy nectar glows; Thy cheek, where round the damask rose A thousand nameless Graces move, Thy mildly speaking azure eyes, Thy golden hair, where cunning Love In many a […]...
- Don’t Tell the World that You’re Waiting for Me THREE summers have gone since the first time we met, love, And still ’tis in vain that I ask thee to wed ; I hear no reply but a gentle ” Not yet, love,” With a smile of your lip, and a shake of your head. Ah! how oft have I whispered, how oft have […]...
- TO THE ROSE: SONG Go, happy Rose, and interwove With other flowers, bind my Love. Tell her, too, she must not be Longer flowing, longer free, That so oft has fetter’d me. Say, if she’s fretful, I have bands Of pearl and gold, to bind her hands; Tell her, if she struggle still, I have myrtle rods at will, […]...
- A Dead Rose O Rose! who dares to name thee? No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet; But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubble-wheat, – Kept seven years in a drawer – thy titles shame thee. The breeze that used to blow thee Between the hedgerow thorns, and take away An odour up the lane to […]...
- I Will Not Let Thee Go I will not let thee go. Ends all our month-long love in this? Can it be summed up so, Quit in a single kiss? I will not let thee go. I will not let thee go. If thy words’ breath could scare thy deeds, As the soft south can blow And toss the feathered seeds, […]...
- Sonnet XV: Now, Round My Favour'd Grot Now, round my favor’d grot let roses rise, To strew the bank where Phaon wakes from rest; O! happy buds! to kiss his burning breast, And die, beneath the lustre of his eyes! Now, let the timbrels echo to the skies, Now damsels sprinkel cassia on his vest, With od’rous wreaths of constant myrtle drest, […]...
- 199. Song-My Peggy's Charms MY Peggy’s face, my Peggy’s form, The frost of hermit Age might warm; My Peggy’s worth, my Peggy’s mind, Might charm the first of human kind. I love my Peggy’s angel air, Her face so truly heavenly fair, Her native grace, so void of art, But I adore my Peggy’s heart. The lily’s hue, the […]...
- 316. Song-The Banks o' Doon (First Version) SWEET are the banks-the banks o’ Doon, The spreading flowers are fair, And everything is blythe and glad, But I am fu’ o’ care. Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings upon the bough; Thou minds me o’ the happy days When my fause Luve was true: Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie […]...
- TO A GOLDEN HEART THAT HE WORE ROUND HIS NECK [Addressed, during the Swiss tour already mentioned, To a present Lily had given him, during the time of their happy Connection, which was then about to be terminated for ever.] OH thou token loved of joys now perish’d That I still wear from my neck suspended, Art thou stronger than our spirit-bond so cherish’d? Or […]...
- Sonnet 54: O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumèd tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns, and […]...
- Sonnets vi O HOW much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The Rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The Canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the Roses, Hang on such thorns, and play […]...
- Sonet LIV O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns and play […]...
- A Lover To His Mistress Ile tell you how the Rose did first grow redde, And whence the Lilly whitenesse borrowed: You blusht, and then the Rose with redde was dight: The Lillies kissde your hands, and so came white: Before that time each Rose had but a stayne, The Lilly nought but palenesse did containe: You have the native […]...
- Ariste Let ancient stories round the painter’s art, Who stole from many a maid his Venus’ charms, Till warm devotion fired each gazer’s heart And every bosom bounded with alarms. He culled the beauties of his native isle, From some the blush of beauty’s vermeil dyes, From some the lovely look, the winning smile, From some […]...
« Hymn 84