Shakespeare's Tragic Rose
S
Shaun Cronick
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There was a rose of nature's gifted growth,
Tended to daily in its proud dwelling bower.
It grew and blossomed with fragrance sweet,
Never had there been as such a finer flower.
Summer breezes would softly sigh around it,
Then autumn night winds breathed upon this gem.
It died! It's life mirroring Shakespearian tragedy,
Hung as in mockery on its spent withered stem.
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