With foliage so dripping and drown’d,
I shook it and swung it with too little care—
I snapp’d it, it fell to the ground.
And such, I exclaim’d is the pitiless part,
Some act by the delicate mind,
Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart
Already to sorrow resign’d.
This Rose might have held, had I shaken it less,
Its unblemish’d beauty awhile,
And the tear that is wiped by a little address,