HERE -- for they could not help but die -- The daughters of the Rose-Bush lie: Here rest, interred without a stone, What dear Lucinda gave to none, -- What forward beau, or curious belle, Could hardly touch, and rarely smell. Dear Rose! of all the blooming kind You had a happier place assigned, And nearer grew to all that's fair, And more engaged Lucinda's care, Than ever courting, coaxing swain, Or ever all who love, shall gain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BAY FIGHT by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL BERNARDO DEL CARPIO by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS PASA THALASSA THALASSA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON ANTIQUE JEWELER by FREDERICK HENRY HERBERT ADLER DUSK; TO MADEMOISELLE MARIE LAURENCIN by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE THE BLASPHEMER'S WARNING; A LAY OF ST. ROMWOLD by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM PURIFICATION OF YE B. VIRGIN (TO A BASE, A TENOR, AND TWO TREBLES) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |