On A Dead Violet geschreven door Percy Bysshe Shelley (Born 1792 - Died 1822)

On A Dead Violet

The odor from the flower is gone
Which like thy kisses breathed on me;
The color from the flower is flown
Which glowed of thee and only thee!

A shrivelled, lifeless, vacant form,
It lies on my abandoned breast;
And mocks the heart, which yet is warm,
With cold and silent rest.

I weep--my tears revive it not;
I sigh--it breathes no more on me:
Its mute and uncomplaining lot
Is such as mine should be.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

08:12 Gepost door Bloodyke | Permalink | Commentaren (1) |  Facebook |


hey na lang tijdje kom ik je nog is bezoeken ben terug van weg geweest :-) knufjesssss

Gepost door: miekske | 12-06-04

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