A ROSE, as fair as ever saw the North, <br />Grew in a little garden all alone; <br />A sweeter flower did Nature ne'er put forth, <br />Nor fairer garden yet was never known: <br />The maidens danced about it morn and noon, <br />And learned bards of it their ditties made; <br />The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moon <br />Water'd the root and kiss'd her pretty shade. <br />But well-a-day!--the gardener careless grew; <br />The maids and fairies both were kept away, <br />And in a drought the caterpillars threw <br />Themselves upon the bud and every spray. <br /> God shield the stock! If heaven send no supplies, <br /> The fairest blossom of the garden dies.<br /><br />William Browne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rose-5/
