Go, Rose, and in her golden hair You shall forget the garden soon; The sunshine is a captive there And crowns her with a constant noon. And when your spicy odor goes, And fades the beauty of your bloom, Think what a lovely hand, O Rose, Shall place your body in the tomb! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SECRETARY; WRITTEN AT THE HAGUE, 1696 by MATTHEW PRIOR FOREIGN LANDS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 11. ON LOVE - TO A FRIEND by MARK AKENSIDE MEMORIES by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON VERMONT DRIED BEEF by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |