To sighs of morning air, that froze,-
(With her lips opened for a say),
How curiously has smiled the rose
On a September fleeting day!
And how has she ever dared
To greet, with air of springy queens,
The single blue-tit, in the bare
Shrubs fleshing in the orb of wings;
To bloom with steadfast dream that later,
Just leaving her cold bed in rest,
She-ll cling, the last and dissipated,
To a young hostess-s charming breast!
The September Rose
Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet
(1)
Poem topics: dream, rose, september, blue, young, single, cold, morning, Valentine's Day, bloom, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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