A crimson rosebud into beauty breaking ;1
A hand outstretched to pluck it ere it fall ;2
An hour of triumph, and a sad forsaking ;3
And then, a withered rose-leaf—that is all.4
A maiden’s heart that knoweth not love’s darting ;5
A voice that teacheth love beyond recall ;6
An hour of joy—an hour of bitter parting ;7
And then, a broken heart—and that is all.8