Classic Poem

Once a boy beheld a bright
Rose in dingle growing;
Far, far off it pleased his sight;
Near he viewed it with delight:
Soft it seemed and glowing.
Lo! the rose, the rose so bright,
Rose so brightly blowing!

Spake the boy, “I'll pluck thee, grand
Rose all wildly blowing.”
Spake the rose, “I'll wound thy hand,
Thus the scheme thy wit hath planned
Deftly overthrowing.”
O! the rose, the rose so grand,
Rose so grandly glowing.

But the stripling plucked the red
Rose in glory growing,
And the thorn his flesh hath bled,
And the rose's pride is fled,
And her beauty's going.
Woe! the rose, the rose once red
Rose once redly glowing.