The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
29
XXV. THE POET'S ROSE
A poet loved a rose—and watched it grow,—
And every day a sweeter blush was there,
And pouting petals fuller and more fair;
Each eventide “to-morrow it will blow,”
The poet said—“to-morrow I shall know
The perfect splendour of this flower rare;”
Sometimes its beauty more than he could bear
Brought tears for joy's excess akin to woe.
And every day a sweeter blush was there,
And pouting petals fuller and more fair;
Each eventide “to-morrow it will blow,”
The poet said—“to-morrow I shall know
The perfect splendour of this flower rare;”
Sometimes its beauty more than he could bear
Brought tears for joy's excess akin to woe.
And so he watched it,—and one night he said,
“I see my rose upon the verge of bloom,
To-morrow royal robes she shall assume,
Uplift to heaven a pink most perfect head;”
But when he came next day the rose was dead,
And on that spot they placed—a poet's tomb!
“I see my rose upon the verge of bloom,
To-morrow royal robes she shall assume,
Uplift to heaven a pink most perfect head;”
But when he came next day the rose was dead,
And on that spot they placed—a poet's tomb!
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |