A Dead Rose Poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
A Dead Rose
O Rose! who dares to name thee?
No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet;
But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubble-wheat,---
Kept seven years in a drawer---thy titles shame thee.
The breeze that used to blow thee
Between the hedgerow thorns, and take away
An odour up the lane to last all day,---
If breathing now,---unsweetened would forego thee.
The sun that used to smite thee,
And mix his glory in thy gorgeous urn,
Till beam appeared to bloom, and flower to burn,---
If shining now,---with not a hue would light thee.
The dew that used to wet thee,
And, white first, grow incarnadined, because
It lay upon thee where the crimson was,---
If dropping now,---would darken where it met thee.
The fly that lit upon thee,
To stretch the tendrils of its tiny feet,
Along thy leaf's pure edges, after heat,---
If lighting now,---would coldly overrun thee.
The bee that once did suck thee,
And build thy perfumed ambers up his hive,
And swoon in thee for joy, till scarce alive,---
If passing now,---would blindly overlook thee.
The heart doth recognise thee,
Alone, alone! The heart doth smell thee sweet,
Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete,---
Though seeing now those changes that disguise thee.
Yes, and the heart doth owe thee
More love, dead rose! than to such roses bold
As Julia wears at dances, smiling cold!---
Lie still upon this heart---which breaks below thee!
Such elegance in rhyme and meter; so sweet sounding and heart-pounding.
I Really don't like Her poems at all. they don't make any sense to me and they have nothing to do with personal life.
hey, you are really talented! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! altought we have the same name....but i thing there had a lot of differences between us! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! i am sure i'll dont have such a good poem, even the next 10 years...hahahaha^_^great job.
I normally am blind and dud to appreciate old poetry, this one perhaps helped me feel I am not that dumb after all. What a Masterpeice.
Despite the decay, I recognize and appreciate the inherent beauty that lingers, even in the face of change. The poem evokes a sense of nostalgia, regret, and empathy, inviting readers to contemplate the transience of beauty and find value in the enduring essence beneath its fading exterior.
A poignant reflection on the fleeting nature of beauty and the passage of time. It explores the transformation of a once vibrant rose into a pale, hard, and dry remnant.
Typical Elizabeth Barrett Browning, such great beauty in her words about A Dead Rose.5 Stars for her. I have enjoyed this sweet poem.
Yes, and the heart doth owe thee More love, dead rose! than to such roses bold As Julia wears at dances, smiling cold! --- Lie still upon this heart---which breaks below thee! Most beautifully worded!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/22/2024 3:11:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
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