Classic Poem

A BROTHER and sister rosebud
Grew on a red rose-tree;
The sun in the summer brought them
Smiles that were frank and free,
And the tears of the morning dew-drops
Bathed them with purity.

These loving and lovely rosebuds
Close by a casement hung,
That lighted a room where sadly
Sickened a maiden young,
And they often across the window,
Where she could see them, swung.

And she in the weary shadow
Looked on the happy sky,
And wondered if God thought pity,
Seeing a rosebud die—
Herself was so very sorry
Reasoning how and why.

But once, being cheered and stronger—
Able to rise and stand—
She walked to the open window,
Stretching her wan, worn hand,
And gathered the latest rosebud
Ever she saw expand.

That rose was the last gift Nature
Gave to her dying child—
A fond, but a farewell keepsake,
Never to be defiled—
The gage of a broken union
Soon to be reconciled.

She treasured it on her pillow,
Dewy and fresh and fair,
But it withered beside the fever
Burning her life out there,
And the rose and the frailer maiden
Died at the morning prayer.

'Twas the tenderest rose the maiden
Chose for its greater grace,
And the other with secret pining
Grieved in its lonely place,
Till its petals that fast unfolded
Fell to the ground apace.

And while they were faint and falling
One whom his love had led,
Came weeping to where the maiden
Lay with her tears all shed:
A rose on her bosom rested,
Beautiful too—and dead.

There are griefs in the great creation
Bitter as man has borne,
But the rose's, that pined and perished,
Leaving a leafless thorn,
Is vanity, matched with the sorrow
Many a man must mourn.

Her love was his crown of friendship,
She was his heart-throned queen,
And hers was the dear example
Quickened and made him keen
To walk in the path of honour;
Duty and love between.

“O God, of thy tender mercy,
Teach me to kneel and pray,
And give me the grace to suffer
Patiently day by day;
O help me to bear my burden,
Lighten my darkened way!”

And God in His tender mercy
Granted the prayer He heard,
And gave him the power of patience,
Peace; and His holy word:
And he offered his life to Heaven,
Blest while he ministered.

But ever a rose could waken
Dreams of the dead old days,
Till he'd think of his Rose in Heaven
Garnishing God's highways,
And the pain of the early trouble
Passed into living praise.