Verse > Anthologies > Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. > An American Anthology, 1787–1900
Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908).  An American Anthology, 1787–1900.  1900.
1663. My Rose
By Hildegarde Hawthorne
ON a green slope, most fragrant with the spring,
  One sweet, fair day I planted a red rose,
That grew, beneath my tender nourishing,
  So tall, so riotous of bloom, that those
Who passed the little valley where it grew        5
  Smiled at its beauty. All the air was sweet
About it! Still I tended it, and knew
  That he would come, e’en as it grew complete.
And a day brought him! Up I led him, where
  In the warm sun my rose bloomed gloriously—        10
Smiling and saying, “So, is it not fair?
  And all for thee—all thine!” But he passed by
Coldly, and answered, “Rose? I see no rose,”
  Leaving me standing in the barren vale
Alone! alone! feeling the darkness close        15
  Deep o’er my heart, and all my being fail.
  Then came one, gently, yet with eager tread,
  Begging one rosebud—but my rose was dead.


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