Classic Poem

My rose, 't is scarce an hour ago
We entered regally this room
To queen it over suppliant love
By beauty's right, by right of bloom —
So rich in both, so sure of power,
O happy I, O happy flower!

My rose, the hour is gone, and now
You droop your head against my breast.
Our reign was brief, our reign is done, —
Ah, rose, the end we might have guessed!
But I still live, though dead the hour.
You died with it, O happy flower!