(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)

My Nosegays Are For Captives;

My nosegays are for captives;
Dim, long-expectant eyes,
Fingers denied the plucking,
Patient till paradise.

To such, if they should whisper
Of morning and the moor,
They bear no other errand,
And I, no other prayer.

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Comments (1)

..........beautiful poem seems a little nostalgic ★