The Rose in the garden slipped her bud, And she laughed in the pride of her youthful blood, As she thought of the Gardener standing by -- "He is old -- so old! And he soon must die!" The full Rose waxed in the warm June air, And she spread and spread till her heart lay bare; And she laughed once more as she heard his tread -- "He is older now! He will soon be dead!" But the breeze of the morning blew, and found That the leaves of the blown Rose strewed the ground; And he came at noon, that Gardener old, And he raked them gently under the mold. And I wove the thing to a random rhyme: For the Rose is Beauty; the Gardener, Time. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AURENG-ZEBE, OR THE GREAT MOGUL: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN THE MOTHER WATCH by EDGAR ALBERT GUEST EPITAPH ON THE TOMB OF SIR EDWARD GILES AND HIS WIFE by ROBERT HERRICK THE LAW OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE MANNERLY MARGERY, MILK AND ALE by JOHN SKELTON POPULARITY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE HEAVEN THAT'S HERE by ALICE CARY THE VOICE by ESTHER TROWBRIDGE CATLIN A FAIR NYMPH SCORNING A BLACK BOY COURTING HER by JOHN CLEVELAND |