Bouquet and Bracelet

Bouquet said: My floral ring
The homage of a heart encloses,
Whose thoughts to you go worshipping
In perfume from my blushing roses.

Bracelet said: My rubies red,
Though hard the gleam that each exposes,
Will last when flowers of Spring are fled
And dead are all the Summer roses.

Beauty mused awhile, and said,
Heres poesy! and sighed, Here prose is
Bouquet! I choose the rubies red!
In Winter they will buy me roses.

Victor James Daley

Victor James Daley, born on 5 September 1858, was an Australian poet noted for his lyrical works. Daley’s publications, including his collection of poems

Victor James Daley

Players

Victor James Daley, Simple Poetry

Sea-Gifts

Victor James Daley, Simple Poetry

The Gods

Victor James Daley, Simple Poetry

The Dove

Victor James Daley, Simple Poetry

English

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Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

A Bouquet

A blossom pink, a blossom blue,
    Make all there is in love so true.
'Tis fit, methinks, my heart to move,
    To give it thee, sweet girl, I love!
Now, take it, dear, this morn and wear
    A wreath of beauty in thy hair;
Think on it, when from bliss we part -
    The emblem of my wooing heart!

Edward Smyth Jones

The Pomander Bracelet.

To me my Julia lately sent
A bracelet richly redolent:
The beads I kissed, but most lov'd her
That did perfume the pomander.

Robert Herrick

To Weave A Garland For The Rose. By Paul, The Silentiary.

To weave a garland for the rose.
    And think thus crown'd 'twould lovelier be,
Were far less vain than to suppose
    That silks and gems add grace to thee.
Where is the pearl whose orient lustre
    Would not, beside thee, look less bright?
What gold could match the glossy cluster
    Of those young ringlets full of light?

Bring from the land, where fresh it gleams,
    The bright blue gem of India's mine,
And see how soon, though bright its beams,
    'Twill pale before one glance of thine:
Those lips, too, when their sounds have blest us
    With some divine, mellifluous air,
Who would not say that Beauty's cestus
    Had let loose all its witcheries there?

Here, to this conquering host of charms
    I now give up my spell-bound heart.

Thomas Moore

Red Carnations.

        One time in Arcadie's fair bowers
    There met a bright immortal band,
        To choose their emblems from the flowers
    That made an Eden of that land.

        Sweet Constancy, with eyes of hope,
    Strayed down the garden path alone
        And gathered sprays of heliotrope,
    To place in clusters at her zone.

        True Friendship plucked the ivy green,
    Forever fresh, forever fair.
        Inconstancy with flippant mien
    The fading primrose chose to wear.

        One moment Love the rose paused by;
    But Beauty picked it for her hair.
        Love paced the garden with a sigh
    He found no fitting emblem there.

        Then suddenly he saw a flame,
    A conflagration turned to bloom;
        It ...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Brunette

When trees in Spring
Are blossoming
My lady wakes
From dreams whose light
Made dark days bright,
For their sweet sakes.

Yet in her eyes
A shadow lies
Of bygone mirth;
And still she seems
To walk in dreams,
And not on earth.

Some men may hold
That hair of gold
Is lovelier
Than darker sheen:
They have not seen
My ladys hair.

Her eyes are bright,
Her bosom white
As the sea foam
On sharp rocks sprayed;
Her mouth is made
Of honeycomb.

And whoso seeks
In her dusk cheeks
May see Loves sign,
A blush that glows
Like a red rose
Beneath brown wine.

Victor James Daley

Women And Roses

I.
I dream of a red-rose tree.
And which of its roses three
Is the dearest rose to me?

II.
Round and round, like a dance of snow
In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go
Floating the women faded for ages,
Sculptured in stone, on the poets pages.
Then follow women fresh and gay,
Living and loving and loved to-day.
Last, in the rear, flee the multitude of maidens,
Beauties yet unborn. And all, to one cadence,
They circle their rose on my rose tree.

III.
Dear rose, thy term is reached,
Thy leaf hangs loose and bleached:
Bees pass it unimpeached.

IV.
Stay then, stoop, since I cannot climb,
You, great shapes of the antique time!
How shall I fix you, fire you, freeze you,
Break my heart at your feet to please you?

Robert Browning