Nature
A Sigh
From The Golden Treasury of American Songs and Lyrics (1899)
Nature
It was nothing but a rose I gave her,--
Nothing but a rose
Any wind might rob of half its savor,
Any wind that blows.
When she took it from my trembling fingers
With a hand as chill,--
Ah, the flying touch upon them lingers,
Stays, and thrills them still!
Withered, faded, pressed between the pages,
Crumpled fold on fold,--
Once it lay upon her breast, and ages
Cannot make it old!
Cite this poem
MLA
Spofford, Harriet Prescott. “A Sigh.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/spofford/0/.
Chicago
Spofford, Harriet Prescott. “A Sigh.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/spofford/0/.
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