---

Paul Laurence Dunbar - Poor Withered Rose
Work rating: Low

_A Song_

  Poor withered rose, she gave it me,
  Half in revenge and half in glee;
  Its petals not so pink by half
  As are her lips when curled to laugh,
  As are her cheeks when dimples gay
  In merry mischief o`er them play.

  _Chorus_

      Forgive, forgive, it seems unkind
      To cast thy petals to the wind;
      But it is right, and lest I err
      So scatter I all thought of her.

  Poor withered rose, so like my heart,
  That wilts at sorrow`s cruel dart.
  Who hath not felt the winter`s blight
  When every hope seemed warm and bright?
  Who doth not know love unreturned,
  E`en when the heart most wildly burned?

  Poor withered rose, thou liest dead;
  Too soon thy beauty`s bloom hath fled.
  `Tis not without a tearful ruth
  I watch decay thy blushing youth;
  And though thy life goes out in dole,
  Thy perfume lingers in my soul.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.