The first rose on my rose-tree
Budded, bloomed, and shattered,
During sad days when to me
Nothing mattered.
Grief of grief has drained me clean;
Still it seems a pity
No one saw,--it must have been
Very pretty.
Songs Of Shattering I
Edna St. Vincent Millay
(2)
Poem topics: sad, tree, clean, pretty, grief, rose, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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