Flower o' the thorn A book of wayside verse: By John Payne |
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THE HONEYSUCKLE. |
 | Flower o' the thorn |  |
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THE HONEYSUCKLE.
THE honeysuckle clambers everywhereAnd in the quickset hedges left and right
Runs, with its scrolls of gold and red and white
Broidering the rugged thorn, which, now though bare,
But yesterday with fragrant bloom was fair.
Like some sweet thought, too vagrant and too slight
To seize, too vague to follow in its flight,
Its breath of cream and almonds brims the air.
—With soft caressing clasp it seems the thorn
To solace for its loss of flower and scent,
Its bygone blossom-glories of the May,
As some kind humble love the soul forlorn
Heals of the heartbreak of a desolate day
And the repine of Passion's ravishment.
| Flower o' the thorn | |