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Poem
July 17, 1873
The Pulaski Citizen
Pulaski, Giles County, Tennessee
What is this article about?
A romantic poem where the speaker reflects on a faded flower given by the beloved, symbolizing her enduring beauty in his soul, and prays for their eternal union in heaven.
Clipping
OCR Quality
98%
Excellent
Full Text
The flower you placed within my button-hole
Has faded; but there lives within my soul
Another rose, unfolding hour by hour—
Your beauty's self in its immortal flower.
That makes me rich with an unfathomed wealth
And happy in the heaven of its health,
So living-warm this dainty flower glows,
As if a sunbeam blushed into a rose;
With fragrance like a waft from heaven afar,
And look as lustrous as the morning-star.
I do not come to crown your beauty, Sweet!
Nor thank you for it, kneeling at your feet;
But pray that on Love's bosom it may rest,
As thornless as its likeness in my breast;
And ask Him who such promise here hath given
To let me see the flower fulfilled in heaven.
Has faded; but there lives within my soul
Another rose, unfolding hour by hour—
Your beauty's self in its immortal flower.
That makes me rich with an unfathomed wealth
And happy in the heaven of its health,
So living-warm this dainty flower glows,
As if a sunbeam blushed into a rose;
With fragrance like a waft from heaven afar,
And look as lustrous as the morning-star.
I do not come to crown your beauty, Sweet!
Nor thank you for it, kneeling at your feet;
But pray that on Love's bosom it may rest,
As thornless as its likeness in my breast;
And ask Him who such promise here hath given
To let me see the flower fulfilled in heaven.
What sub-type of article is it?
Ode
What themes does it cover?
Love Courtship
Religious Faith
What keywords are associated?
Eternal Love
Rose Symbolism
Heavenly Beauty
Romantic Prayer
Immortal Flower
Poem Details
Form / Style
Rhymed Quatrains
Key Lines
The Flower You Placed Within My Button Hole
Has Faded; But There Lives Within My Soul
Another Rose, Unfolding Hour By Hour—
Your Beauty's Self In Its Immortal Flower.
I Do Not Come To Crown Your Beauty, Sweet!
Nor Thank You For It, Kneeling At Your Feet;
But Pray That On Love's Bosom It May Rest,
As Thornless As Its Likeness In My Breast;