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| THERE was a rose-tree grew so high | |
| And white with all its seven roses, | |
| It seemed a cloud ’twixt earth and sky. | |
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| There was one rose among the seven | |
| That grew alone on topmost bough, | 5 |
| Like a white star caught down from heaven. | |
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| I plucked it that it should not be | |
| Deflowered by rainy, wild west winds | |
| In all its white virginity. | |
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| There was a little maiden dead | 10 |
| In a dark room in a lone place— | |
| Two candles at her feet and head. | |
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| Her two hands crossed upon her breast, | |
| Like frail rose petals, but more still— | |
| Glad to be folded thus at rest. | 15 |
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| Her pale lips smiling all the while, | |
| In such a solemn, perfect peace, | |
| Alas, as our lips never smile. | |
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| I gave my white rose to the dead— | |
| It seemed less white than her young brow: | 20 |
| The others wept—“Alas!” they said. | |
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| I gave my white rose to the child, | |
| Both plucked in their young purity, | |
| And while the others wept I smiled. | |
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