Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918/The Rose

by William Browne

AROSE, as fair as ever saw the North,Grew in a little garden all alone;A sweeter flower did Nature ne’er put forth,Nor fairer garden yet was never known:The maidens danced about it morn and noon,And learnèd bards of it their ditties made;The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moonWater’d the root and kiss’d her pretty shade.But well-a-day!—the gardener careless grew;The maids and fairies both were kept away,And in a drought the caterpillars threwThemselves upon the bud and every spray. God shield the stock! If heaven send no supplies, The fairest blossom of the garden dies.