WHITE rose must die all in the youth and beauty of the year, Though nightingale should sing the whole night through, Though summer breezes woo, She will not hear. Too delicate for the sun's kiss so hot and passionate, Or for the rude caresses of the wind, She drooped and pined— They mourned too late. Birds carol clear: "Summer has come," they say, "O joy of living on a summer's day!" White rose must die all in the youth and beauty of the year. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE LESSER BEAUTY by MARGARET STEELE ANDERSON SATIRE: 1 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS PHANTOM OF LIFE by VIOLET MCKAY BALL ON A SCOTCH BARD, GONE TO THE WEST INDIES by ROBERT BURNS UPON YE SIGHT OF MY ABORTIVE BIRTH YE 31TH: OF DECEMBER 1657 by MARY CAREY |