Explore "Lovelace Grown Old" by Theodosia Pickrering Garrison on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I / My life has been like a bee that roves / Through a scented garden close, / And 'tis I who have kept the honey of love, / The hoarded sweetness and scent thereof, / For all I forget the rose.
Oh, exquisite gardens long forgot / That have made my store complete, / Though winter fall upon blossom and bee, / Yet the kisses I garnered remain with me / Forever and ever sweet.