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Poem
June 29, 1799
Gazette Of The United States, & Philadelphia Daily Advertiser
Philadelphia, Philadelphia County, Pennsylvania
What is this article about?
A poem by a lady mourning the decline of a transplanted rose-bush, symbolizing the fragility of earthly joys and inevitable disappointments, ending with the moral that no rose blooms without a thorn.
Clipping
OCR Quality
98%
Excellent
Full Text
The following lines, it appears from a note in which they were enclosed, come from the pen of a Lady.
ON A TRANSPLANTED ROSE-BUSH.
ON thee! fair rose, my fondest hopes were rais'd,
But now, alas ! how varied is the scene,
Instead of youthful verdure, stealing praise—
Behold a wither'd melancholy mien.
Where once mine eyes with rapture fondly rov'd,
On all the charms in nature's gift to grant,
My soul, with sympathetic pity mov'd,
Surveys the languor of a darling plant.
Can nought, from death, those tender shoots preserve,
No friendly hand cheer up those drooping boughs;
Say—bounteous Goodness—in whose kind reserve,
My last and only hopes of aid repose.
On thee—when every other source has fail'd—
We fondly rest each suffering hope of joy;
Ever forgetful, 'till by grief assail'd—
Then—all submission—on thy care rely.
Should wisdom's plans of universal right,
Forbid, thus partially, to interpose;
Then lost, alas ! forever, from my sight,
Are all the beauties of my favorite Rose.
On me, who bro't thee from thy native home,
Where kindred plants compos'd the cheerful group.
And plac'd thee, lonely in a soil unknown—
Must rest the pain of disappointed hope.
How transient then are all those earthly joys;
How vain the hope which hangs by cobweb strings;
One moment blest with what our soul must prize,
The next, despair and disappointment brings
Tis thus the experience of each day must prove,
And will to generations yet unborn,
Convey a truth which time can ne'er remove—
There's ne'er a Rose that blooms without a Thorn.
ON A TRANSPLANTED ROSE-BUSH.
ON thee! fair rose, my fondest hopes were rais'd,
But now, alas ! how varied is the scene,
Instead of youthful verdure, stealing praise—
Behold a wither'd melancholy mien.
Where once mine eyes with rapture fondly rov'd,
On all the charms in nature's gift to grant,
My soul, with sympathetic pity mov'd,
Surveys the languor of a darling plant.
Can nought, from death, those tender shoots preserve,
No friendly hand cheer up those drooping boughs;
Say—bounteous Goodness—in whose kind reserve,
My last and only hopes of aid repose.
On thee—when every other source has fail'd—
We fondly rest each suffering hope of joy;
Ever forgetful, 'till by grief assail'd—
Then—all submission—on thy care rely.
Should wisdom's plans of universal right,
Forbid, thus partially, to interpose;
Then lost, alas ! forever, from my sight,
Are all the beauties of my favorite Rose.
On me, who bro't thee from thy native home,
Where kindred plants compos'd the cheerful group.
And plac'd thee, lonely in a soil unknown—
Must rest the pain of disappointed hope.
How transient then are all those earthly joys;
How vain the hope which hangs by cobweb strings;
One moment blest with what our soul must prize,
The next, despair and disappointment brings
Tis thus the experience of each day must prove,
And will to generations yet unborn,
Convey a truth which time can ne'er remove—
There's ne'er a Rose that blooms without a Thorn.
What sub-type of article is it?
Elegy
What themes does it cover?
Death Mourning
Nature Seasons
Moral Virtue
What keywords are associated?
Transplanted Rose
Withering Plant
Transient Joys
Disappointment
Life Lesson
Rose Thorn
What entities or persons were involved?
A Lady
Poem Details
Title
On A Transplanted Rose Bush.
Author
A Lady
Subject
On A Transplanted Rose Bush
Key Lines
On Thee! Fair Rose, My Fondest Hopes Were Rais'd,
But Now, Alas ! How Varied Is The Scene,
Instead Of Youthful Verdure, Stealing Praise—
Behold A Wither'd Melancholy Mien.
How Transient Then Are All Those Earthly Joys;
How Vain The Hope Which Hangs By Cobweb Strings;
One Moment Blest With What Our Soul Must Prize,
The Next, Despair And Disappointment Brings
Tis Thus The Experience Of Each Day Must Prove,
And Will To Generations Yet Unborn,
Convey A Truth Which Time Can Ne'er Remove—
There's Ne'er A Rose That Blooms Without A Thorn.