Classic Poem

The Rose was born,
She bloomed, and died.
" A lot forlorn, "
Some mortal cried.

" A few brief days
Of life, a breath
Like summer haze,
And thence to death! "

Ah well, that's life!
Our years are brief.
Some joy, some strife,
And then relief.

How joyous she,
How free from woes,
To live, and be,
And die, a Rose!