Classic Poem

Among the thousand things reflected there
I chose a full-charged rosebush in a plot
Encinctured with a hedge; and such desire
Then seized me that I had not failed to seek
The place where that rose heap was on display
Though Pavia or Paris had tempted me.
When I was thus o'ertaken by this rage,
Which many another better man has crazed,
Straightway I hurried toward the red rosebush;
And I can tell you that, when I approached
The blooms, the sweetness of their pleasant smell
Did so transfuse my being that as naught
Compared to it the perfume would have been
Within my entrails, had I been embalmed.
Had I not feared to be assailed or scorned,
One rose, at least, to handle and to smell,
I would have plucked; but I had heavy fear
Lest it might irk the owner of the place,
Who might thereafter cause me to repent
What pile of ruddy roses was there seen,
More beautiful than any others known
Beneath the sky! Some only tiny buds
Still tightly closed — others more open were;
Yet others that belonged to later crop
Would follow in their season, all prepared
To open wide their petals. Who could hate
Such folded buds! For roses spreading wide
Within one day will surely all be gone;
But fresh the buds will still remain at least
Two days or three; so they allured me most.
Never in any place grew they more fair.
Most happy he who might succeed to pluck
A single one! Could I a chaplet have
Of such, I'd highly prize no other wealth.
One of these buds I chose, so beautiful
That in comparison none of its mates
I prized at all; and I was well advised,
For such a color did illumine it —
So fine was its vermilion — that it seemed
That in it Nature had outdone herself;
For surely she could not more beauty give.
Four pairs of leaves had she in order set
About the bud with cunning workmanship.
The stalk was straight and upright as a cane,
And thereupon the bud was seated firm,
Not bending or inclined. Its odor spread,
The sweetness burdening the air about
Now when I smelled the perfume so exhaled
I had no wish to go, but drew more near,
Intending to secure the tempting bud
If I dared stretch my hand; but briars sharp
And piercing kept me far away from it.
Pointed and scratching thistles, nettles, thorns
With hook-like barbs, prevented my advance
And made me fear to feel a doleful injury.