A Song POOR withered rose, she gave it me, Half in revenge and half in glee; Its petals not so pink by half As are her lips when curled to laugh, As are her cheeks when dimples gay In merry mischief o'er them play. Chorus Forgive, forgive, it seems unkind To cast thy petals to the wind; But it is right, and lest I err So scatter I all thought of her. Poor withered rose, so like my heart, That wilts at sorrow's cruel dart. Who hath not felt the winter's blight When every hope seemed warm and bright? Who doth not know love unreturned, E'en when the heart most wildly burned? Poor withered rose, thou liest dead; Too soon thy beauty's bloom hath fled. 'Tis not without a tearful ruth I watch decay thy blushing routh; And though thy life goes out in dole, Thy perfume lingers in my soul. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NATURA NATURANS by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE FROM THE CITY OF COLOGNE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE ALICE IN WONDERLAND: THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY; A PATHETIC BALLAD by THOMAS HOOD VENICE; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW DEAD IN THE SIERRAS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: AUGUST by EDMUND SPENSER THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE: CANTO 1 by JAMES THOMSON (1700-1748) |