Poem by Edmund William Gosse

The Fallen Rose

LIFE, like an overweighted shaken rose,
Falls, in a cloud of colour, to my feet;
Its petals strew my first November snows,
Too soon, too fleet!

'Twas my own breath had blown the leaves apart,
My own hot eyelids stirred them where they lay;
It was the tumult of my own bright heart
Broke them away. 

1. The Mænad's Grave
2. At the Play
3. With a Copy of Herrick
4. Greece and England
5. Rosemary

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