Explore "A Blown Rose" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ Lay but a finger on / That pallid petal sweet, / It trembles gray and wan / Beneath the passing feet.
/ But soft! blown rose, we know / A merriment of bloom, / A life of sturdy glow, -- / But no such dear perfume.
/ As some good bard, whose page / Of life with beauty's fraught, / Grays on to ripe old age / Sweet-mellowed through with thought.
/ So when his hoary head / Is wept into the tomb, / The mind, which is not dead, / Sheds round it rare perfume.