by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)
A little budding rose
Language: English
It was a little budding rose, Round like a fairy globe, And shyly did its leaves unclose Hid in their mossy robe, But sweet was the slight and spicy smell It breathed from its heart invisible. The rose is blasted, withered, blighted, Its root has felt a worm, And like a heart beloved and slighted, Failed, faded, shrunk its form. Bud of beauty, bonnie flower, I stole thee from thy natal bower. I was the worm that withered thee, Thy tears of dew all fell for me; Leaf and stalk and rose are gone, Exile earth they died upon. Yes, that last breath of balmy scent With alien breezes sadly blent!
Authorship:
- by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Ronald A. Beckett , "A little budding rose", 2021 [ voice and piano ], from Five Poems of Emily Brontë, no. 2 [sung text not yet checked]
Researcher for this page: Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2021-08-07
Line count: 18
Word count: 111