The Three Roses
When the buds began to burst,Long ago, with Rose the FirstI was walking; joyous thenFar above all other men,Till before us up there stoodBritonferry's oaken wood,Whispering, "Happy as thou art,Happiness and thou must part."Many summers have gone bySince a Second Rose and I(Rose from the same stem) have toldThis and other tales of old.She upon her wedding dayCarried home my tenderest lay:From her lap I now have heardGleeful, chirping, Rose the Third.Not for her this hand of mineRhyme with nuptial wreath shall twine;Cold and torpid it must lie,Mute the tongue, and closed the eye.
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