Sweet flower! that peeping from thy russet stem <br />Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange sort <br />This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chattering month <br />Hath borrowed Zephyr's voice, and gazed upon thee <br />With blue voluptuous eye) alas poor flower! <br />These are but flatteries of the faithless year. <br />Perchance, escaped its unknown polar cave, <br />E'en now the keen north-east is on its way. <br />Flower that must perish! shall I liken thee <br />To some sweet girl of too, too rapid growth, <br />Nipped by consumption mid untimely charms? <br />Or to Bristowa's bard, the wond'rous boy! <br />As amaranth, which earth scarce seemed to own, <br />Till disappointment come, and pelting wrong <br />Beat it to earth? or with indignant grief <br />Shall I compare thee to poor Poland's hope, <br />Bright flower of hope killed in the opening bud? <br />Farewell, sweet blossom! better fate be thine <br />And mock my boding! Dim similitudes <br />Weaving in moral strains, I've stolen one hour <br />From anxious self, life's cruel taskmaster! <br />And the warm wooings of this sunny day <br />Tremble along my frame, and harmonize <br />The attempered organ, that even saddest thoughts <br />Mix with some sweet sensations, like harsh tunes <br />Played deftly on a soft-toned instrument.<br /><br />Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-on-observing-a-blossom-on-the-first-of-february-1796/
