Classic Poem

Poor withered rose and dry,
—Skeleton of a rose,
Risen to testify
—To love's sad close:

Treasured for love's sweet sake,
—That of joy past
Thou might'st again awake
—Memory at last.

Yet is thy perfume sweet;
—Thy petals red
Yet tell of summer heat,
—And the gay bed:

Yet, yet recall the glow
—Of the gazing sun,
When at thy bush we two
—Joined hands in one.

But, rose, thou hast not seen,
—Thou hast not wept
The change that passed between,
—Whilst thou hast slept.

To me thou seemest yet
—The dead dream's thrall:
While I live and forget
—Dream, truth and all.

Thou art more fresh than I,
—Rose, sweet and red:
Salt on my pale cheeks lie
—The tears I shed.