THERE is one rose upon the bough— One rose alone, for Spring hath passed— I will not pluck that flower now, Because the last. Ah me, I am less cruel than Death, Who plucks the fairest flower that grows; Who stripped my branches in a breath, And left no rose. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALNWICK CASTLE by FITZ-GREENE HALLECK CENTENNIAL MEDITATION OF COLUMBIA by SIDNEY LANIER DISARMAMENT by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 11. TO THE COUNTRY GENTLEMEN OF ENGLAND by MARK AKENSIDE THE SALZBURG CHIMES by HENRY ALFORD |