The Wild Honey-Suckle in  General   

Fair flower, that dost so comely grow,
Hid in this silent, dull retreat,
Untouched thy honied blossoms blow,
Unseen thy little branches greet;
...No roving foot shall crush thee here,
...No busy hand provoke a tear.

By Nature's self in white arrayed,
She bade thee shun the vulgar eye,
And planted here the gaurdian shade,
And sent soft waters murmuring by;
...Thus quietly thy summer goes,
...Thy days declinging to repose.

Smit with those charms, that must decay,
I grieve to see your future doom;
They died--nor were those flowers more gay,
The flowers that did in Eden bloom;
...Unpitying frosts, and Autumn's power
...Shall leave no vestige of this flower.

From morning suns and evenign dews
At first thy little being came:
If nothing once, you nothing lose,
For when you die you are the same;
...The space between, is but an hour,
...The frail duration of a flower.

By Philip Freneau

Tell Your Friends About It | Print This Poem

Comments

You should be logged in to be able to leave comments

Other poems by Philip Freneau:

• Ode
• On a Honey Bee
• On Retirement
• On The Death Of Dr. Benjamin Franklin
• On the Ruins of a Country Inn
• On the Universality and Other Attributes of the Go
• Song of Thyrsis
• The Indian Burying Ground
• The Republican Genius of Europe
• The Vernal Age
• The Wild Honey-Suckle
• To A New England Poet