With
Autumn comes the vibrant display of majestic color of fall. The roses will be blooming again for their
final glory. I share my sentiment with
Christina Rossetti (1830-1894) during the rose’s final display.
In
my Autumn garden I was fain
To
mourn among my scattered roses,
Alas
for that last rosebud that uncloses
To
Autumn’s languid sun and rain
When
all the world is on the wane!
Which
has not felt the sweet constraint of June,
Nor
heard the nightingale in tune.
Broad-faced
asters by my garden walk,
You
are but coarse compared with roses:
More
choice, more dear that rosebud which uncloses,
Faint-scented,
pinched, upon its stalk,
That
least and last which cold winds balk;
A
rose it is though least and last of all,
A
rose to me though at the fall.
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