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Poem by Joseph Rodman Drake


To a Lady with a Withered Violet


Though fate upon this faded flower
   His withering hand has laid,
Its odourТd breath defies his power,
   Its sweets are undecayed.

And thus, although thy warbled strains
   No longer wildly thrill,
The memory of the song remains,
   Its soul is with me still.



Joseph Rodman Drake


Joseph Rodman Drake's other poems:
  1. Bronx
  2. Fragment
  3. To ---
  4. Song (Oh! go to sleep, my baby dear)
  5. Lines Written on Leaving New Rochelle


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