Song

A poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Oh roses for the flush of youth,
And laurel for the perfect prime;
But pluck an ivy branch for me
Grown old before my time.

Oh violets for the grave of youth,
And bay for those dead in their prime;
Give me the withered leaves I chose
Before in the old time.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Song' by Christina Georgina Rossetti

comments powered by Disqus