Emily Jane Brontë

(30 July 1818 – 19 December 1848 / Thornton / Yorkshire)

A Little Budding Rose - Poem by Emily Jane Brontë

It was a little budding rose,
Round like a fairy globe,
And shyly did its leaves unclose
Hid in their mossy robe,
But sweet was the slight and spicy smell
It breathed from its heart invisible.

The rose is blasted, withered, blighted,
Its root has felt a worm,
And like a heart beloved and slighted,
Failed, faded, shrunk its form.
Bud of beauty, bonnie flower,
I stole thee from thy natal bower.

I was the worm that withered thee,
Thy tears of dew all fell for me;
Leaf and stalk and rose are gone,
Exile earth they died upon.
Yes, that last breath of balmy scent
With alien breezes sadly blent!


Comments about A Little Budding Rose by Emily Jane Brontë

  • Freshman - 894 Points Leslie Sharp (1/5/2015 10:48:00 AM)

    Funny how things fall in place even in the cosmos world. Do you believe in spirits I do. I look at as still people just without the earthly bodies. Even they have consciences funny but true! (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: fairy, rose, flower, beauty, heart



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002



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