When once the sun sinks in the west,
And dewdrops pearl the evening's breast;
Almost as pale as moonbeams are,
Or its companionable star,
The evening primrose opes anew
Its delicate blossoms to the dew;
And, hermit-like, shunning the light,
Wastes its fair bloom upon the night,
Who, blindfold to its fond caresses,
Knows not the beauty it possesses;
Thus it blooms on while night is by;
When day looks out with open eye,
Bashed at the gaze it cannot shun,
It faints and withers and is gone.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 982 times | Comments (0)

Poet: John Clare
Poem: Evening Primrose

There are no comments for this poem. Why not be the first one to post something about it?

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Evening Primrose, has not yet been commented on. You can click here to be the first to post a comment about it. Of course you can also always discuss poems by John Clare with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!