The Rose

Rating: 3.1

A ROSE, as fair as ever saw the North,
Grew in a little garden all alone;
A sweeter flower did Nature ne'er put forth,
Nor fairer garden yet was never known:
The maidens danced about it morn and noon,
And learned bards of it their ditties made;
The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moon
Water'd the root and kiss'd her pretty shade.
But well-a-day! - the gardener careless grew;
The maids and fairies both were kept away,
And in a drought the caterpillars threw
Themselves upon the bud and every spray.
God shield the stock! If heaven send no supplies,
The fairest blossom of the garden dies.

Thursday, January 1, 2004
Topic(s) of this poem: rose
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
yaking 12 December 2018

moral lessons please

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Jean Marie Baker 23 August 2007

You don't see many poems like this anymore. Beautifully written.

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