To a Rosebud
O dainty bud, I hold thee in my hand—
A castaway, a dead, a lifeless thing.
A few days since I saw thee, wet with dew,
A bud of promise to thy parent cling,
Now thou art crushed yet lovely as before,
The adverse winds but waft thy fragrance more.
How small, how frail! I tread thee underfoot
And crush thy petals in the rocking ground:
Perchance some one in pity for thy state
Will pick thee up in reverence profound—
Lo, thou art pure with virtue more intense,
Thy perfume grows from earthly detriments.
Why do we grieve? Let each affliction bear
A greater beauty springing from the sod,
May sweetness well as incense from the urn,
Which, rising high, enshrouds the throne of God.
Envoy of Hope, this lesson I disclose—
“Be Ever Sweet,” thou humble, fragrant rose!
This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on July 5, 2020 by the Academy of American Poets.
“To a Rosebud” originally appeared in Negro Poets and Their Poems (Associated Publishers, 1923).
Eva A. Jessye
Eva A. Jessye was born on January 20, 1895, in Coffeyville, Kansas. She was the daughter of formerly enslaved people. Her father, Albert, was a chicken plucker. Her mother, Julia, separated from Albert during Eva’s childhood and moved to Washington state. Jessye moved back and forth between Kansas and Washington before settling for a while in Seattle after her father’s death. She began writing poems during childhood. Jessye then moved back to Coffeyville at age nine and resided with her great-grandmother. Jessye could not enroll at the local high school due to segregation.