Rose o' the world, she came to my bed And changed the dreams of my heart and head; For joy of mine she left grief of hers And garlanded me with the prickly furze. Rose o' the world, they go out and in, And watch me dream and my mother spin; And they pity the tears on my sleeping face While my soul's away in a fairy place. Rose o' the world, they have words galore, For wide's the swing of my mother's door; And soft they speak of my darkened brain, But what do they know of my heart's dear pain? Rose o' the world, the grief you give Is worth all days that a man may live; Is worth all prayers that the colleens say On the night that darkens the wedding-day. Rose o' the world, what man would wed When he might remember your face instead? Might go to his grave with the blessed pain Of hungering after your face again? Rose o' the world, they may talk their fill, But dreams are good, and my life stands still, While the neighbours talk by their fires astir; But my fiddle knows, and I talk to her. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN THERE IS PEACE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE SONG OF A HEATHEN by RICHARD WATSON GILDER HIS PRAYER TO BEN JONSON by ROBERT HERRICK TO BE CARVED ON A STONE AT THOOR BALLYLEE (1) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |