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Poem by William Watson
I made a little song about the rose And sang it for the rose to hear, Nor ever marked until the music's close A lily that was listening near. The red red rose flushed redder with delight, And like a queen her head she raised. The white white lily blanched a paler white, For anger that she was not praised. Turning I left the rose unto her pride, The lily to her enviousness, And soon upon the grassy ground espied A daisy all companionless. Doubtless no flattered flower is this, I deemed; And not so graciously it grew As rose or lily: but methought it seemed More thankful for the sun and dew. Dear love, my sweet small flower that grew'st among The grass, from all the flowers apart,— Forgive me that I gave the rose my song, Ere thou, the daisy, hadst my heart!
William Watson's other poems:
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