Classic Poem

One day I pluck'd, to deck my thoughtless breast,
A fragrant Rose, surpassing all the rest;
With pride I saw its blushing charms display'd;
But ere full-blown the blooming beauties fade.
Still longer to preserve my fav'rite flow'r,
I sought the crystal stream's enliv'ning pow'r;
Bent o'er the vase the drooping mourner hung,
And thus, pathetic, to my fancy sung:

Sole cause of my langour and pain,
No art can my beauty restore!
You strive to revive me in vain, —
Alas! I shall flourish no more!

By nature I fondly was nurst;
This day to perfection I grew, —
This day from my prison I burst,
And now fall a victim to you.

From the bower I bloom'd to adorn,
You cruelly tore me away, —
Unmoved by the tears of the morn,
Presaging my early decay.

Unmoved by soft Zephyrus' sigh,
Who hover'd in terror around!
You, pitiless, doom'd me to die, —
You gave me the life-rending wound.

My ruin alone I could bear,
But, tyrant, your ravage behold!
Alas! this once promising pair
Will never their beauty unfold!

How tenderly oft from the blight
I shelter'd each innocent head!
You came and destroy'd my delight, —
See, spoiler, my infants are dead!

Yet know, tho' by grief rudely torn,
These leaves that fall wither'd and pale,
On the wings of my Zephyrus borne,
Shall scent with their fragrance the gale.