Rose, harsh rose, marred and with stint of petals, meager flower, thin, sparse of leaf, more precious than a wet rose single on a stem -- you are caught in the drift. Stunted, with small leaf, you are flung on the sand, you are lifted in the crisp sand that drives in the wind. Can the spice-rose drip such acrid fragrance hardened in a leaf? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD NIGHT by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR UPON THE SAYING THAT MY VERSES WERE MADE BY ANOTHER by ANNE KILLIGREW THE CENTENARIAN'S STORY by WALT WHITMAN THE LOVER: A BALLAD by MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU THE WINNING OF POMONA by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |