There Was a Rose

“ THERE was a Rose,” she said,
“ Like other roses, perhaps, to you.
Nine years ago it was faint and red
Away in the cold dark dew,
On the dwarf bush where it grew.
“ Never any rose before
Was like that rose, very well I know ;
Never another rose any more
Will blow as that rose did blow
When the wet wind shook it so.
“ ‘ What do I want ? ’ — Ah, what ?
Why, I want that rose, that wee one rose,
Only that rose. And that rose is not
Anywhere just now ? God knows
Where all the old sweetness goes.
“ I want that rose so much :
I would take the world back there to the night
Where I saw it blush in the grass, to touch
It once in that fair fall light,
And only once, if I might.
“But a million marching men
From the North and the South would arise ?
And the dead — would have to die again?
And the women’s widowed cries
Would trouble anew the skies ?
“No matter. I would not care ?
Were it not better that this should be ?
The sorrow of many the many bear, —
Mine is too heavy for me.
And I want that rose, you see ! ”
Mrs. S. M. D. Piatt.