To Roses in the Bosom of Castara
YE blushing virgins happy are
In the chaste nunnery of her breasts--
For he'd profane so chaste a fair,
Whoe'er should call them Cupid's nests.
Transplanted thus how bright ye grow!
How rich a perfume do ye yield!
In some close garden cowslips so
Are sweeter than i' th' open field.
In those white cloisters live secure
From the rude blasts of wanton breath!--
Each hour more innocent and pure,
Till you shall wither into death.
Then that which living gave you room,
Your glorious sepulchre shall be.
There wants no marble for a tomb
Whose breast hath marble been to me.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (To Roses in the Bosom of Castara by William Habington )
(12 May 1812 – 29 January 1888)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1644 - 1694)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
(12 May 1828 – 9 April 1882)
- The Saddest Poem, Pablo Neruda
- A Little While, Dante Gabriel Rossetti
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- The Tiger, William Blake
- Winter Solstice, Jacqueline C Nash
- Beyond, Fabrizio Frosini
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye
Poem of the Day
- Clearing the void, Phil's Writings
- The Treacherous Bride, Asaolu Abayomi
- Them, Tanja Henderson
- It is time for me to go home, Leong Ming Loong
- Forsaken For Your Sake, Asma Riaz Khan
- Textology - 1. Conditionals, Joseph Archer
- WHAT FOR?, Terry Collett
- 73, GRANT FRASER
- I Shall Not Want, Tiffany Roldan
- List Of Loneliness, Margaret Alice Second