The Withered Rose

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Title:     The Withered Rose
Author: J. C. Manning [More Titles by Manning]

I had a silver chalice once
Of exquisite design,
In shape 'twas like the human heart
This little vase of mine.
I plucked a rose and placed the flow'r
Within the shiny cup,
And drank the incense hour by hour
The rosebud offered up.
And as it opened leaf by leaf
Its beauties spreading wide,
I saw no blossom such as mine
In all the world beside.

The sunlight came, but came in vain,
And day succeeded day,
But leaf by leaf my rosebud drooped,
Until it passed away.
And thus in life we look for love
From other loves apart--
A gift from Heavenly hand above--
And plant it near the heart;
But Death comes forth with chilly touch;
The blossom droops and dies;
And breaking hearts are filled alone
With fragrant memories.

[The end]
J. C. Manning's poem: Withered Rose

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