The scentless rose, train'd by the poor, May sometimes grace the peasant's door; But when will comfort enter there? Beauty without, hides death within, Like flowers upon the shroud of sin: For ev'n the poor man's marriage-joys, His wife, his sad-lipp'd girls and boys, In mercy or in mockery given, But brighten, with their 'hour of heav'n,' A life of ghastly toil and care: His pay is pain, his hope despair, Although the cottage-rose is fair! Out of his weekly pittance small, Three crowns, for children, wife, and all, Poor British Slave! how can he save A pittance for his evening's close? No roses deck the workhouse-grave! Where is the aged pauper's rose! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG [WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1732] by GEORGE LYTTELTON THE CRICKET by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN THE MEDITATION OF THE OLD FISHERMAN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SEVEN SAD SONNETS: 4. SHE REMEMBERS by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS RENCONTRE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 42. AUGMENTED BY FAVOURABLE BLASTS by PHILIP AYRES |