The Rose Bush That Never Bloomed

The rose bush that never bloomed

Was a sticky sickly thing

It stood in the corner of the garden

And never saw the spring

The rose bush that never bloomed

Nare put forth a perfumed bud

But stood and stared at the bleak blue sky

And wished that it was dead

No one knew it was a rose

And disdained the briar bush

The plant itself knew not what it was

But groveled in the dust

If only it had lived long enough

To see the spring sun rise

And hear the robin and the thrush

Breakthrough the icy noise

But the world awaits for none to make

Their petals red as fire

It was uprooted and turned to dust

On the gardener's funeral pier