Poem by Joseph Rodman Drake

To a Lady with a Withered Violet

Though fate upon this faded flower
   His withering hand has laid,
Its odour’d 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.

1. To Sarah
2. Song (’Tis not the beam of her bright blue eye)
3. Lines Written on Leaving New Rochelle
4. Song (Oh the Tear is in my Eye, and my Heart it is Breaking)
5. Lines to a Lady, on Hearing Her Sing “Cushlamachree”

Print

1918 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version