THE ROSE
by: Samuel Taylor Coleridge
(1772-1834)
- s late each flower that sweetest blows
- I plucked, the Garden's pride!
- Within the petals of a Rose
- A sleeping Love I spied.
- Around his brows a beamy wreath
- Of many a lucent hue;
- All purple glowed his cheek, beneath,
- Inebriate with dew.
- I softly seized the unguarded Power,
- Nor scared his balmy rest:
- And placed him, caged within the flower,
- On spotless Sara's breast.
- But when unweeting of the guile
- Awoke the prisoner sweet,
- He struggled to escape awhile
- And stamped his faery feet.
- Ah! soon the soul-entrancing sight
- Subdued the impatient boy!
- He gazed! he thrilled with deep delight!
- Then clapped his wings for joy.
- "And O!" he cried--"of magic kind
- What charms this Throne endear!
- Some other Love let Venus find--
- I'll fix my empire here."
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