The first rose on my rose-tree Budded, bloomed, and shattered, During sad days when to me Nothing mattered. Grief of grief has drained me clean; Still it seems a pity No one saw, -- it must have been Very pretty. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ANGLER'S SONG by WILLIAM BASSE THE LOST PLEIAD by WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS A GENTLE ECHO ON WOMAN (IN THE DORIC MANNER) by JONATHAN SWIFT TOLEDO CAPTURED BY THE FRANKS by AL-ASSAL THE AWAKENING OF THE TREES by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |