The flowers of the field
Have a sweet smell;
Meadowsweet, tansy, thyme,
And faint-heart pimpernel;
But sweeter even than these,
The silver of the may
Wreathed is with incense for
The Judgment Day.
An apple, a child, dust,
When falls the evening rain,
Wild briar's spicë"d leaves,
Breathe memories again;
With further memory fraught,
The silver of the may
Wreathed is with incense for
The Judgment Day.
Eyes of all loveliness -
Shadow of strange delight,
Even as a flower fades
Must thou from sight;
But oh, o'er thy grave's mound,
Till come the Judgment Day,
Wreathed shall with incense be
Thy sharp-thorned may.
The Hawthorn Hath A Deathly Smell
Walter De La Mare
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Poem topics: child, flower, heart, memory, rain, evening, wild, sweet, shadow, field, smell, apple, sharp, delight, grave, dust, strange, breathe, silver, Valentine's Day, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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