Three roses, wan as moonlight, and weighed down <br />Each with its loveliness as with a crown, <br />Drooped in a florist's window in a town. <br /> <br />The first a lover bought. It lay at rest, <br />Like flower on flower, that night, on Beauty's breast. <br /> <br />The second rose, as virginal and fair, <br />Shrunk in the tangles of a harlot's hair. <br /> <br />The third, a widow, with new grief made wild, <br />Shut in the icy palm of her dead child.<br /><br />Thomas Bailey Aldrich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/destiny-170/
