A white rose said, "how fair am i.
Behold a flower that cannot die!"
A lover brushed the dew aside,
And fondly plucked it for his bride.
" A fitting choice!" the White Rose cried.
The maiden wore it in her hair;
The Rose, contented to be there,
Still proudly boasted, "None so fair!"
Then close she pressed it to her lips,
But, weary of companionships,
The flower within her bosom slips.
O'ercome by all the beauty there,
It straight confessed, " Dear maid, I swear
'T is you, and you alone, are fair!"
Turning its humbled head aside,
The envious Rose, lamenting, died.
I am busy working to bring Arthur Macy's "The Passing of the Rose" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
In the meantime, I invite you to explore the poem's themes, structure, and meaning. You can also check out the gallery for other musical arrangements or learn more about Arthur Macy's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "The Passing of the Rose" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.