Impromptu - On The Origin Of The Red Rose Poem by Mary Anne Browne

The Rose that blooms in blushing crimson bright,
As Poets' legends tell us, once was white :
It turn'd its modest face towards the sky,
Pure and unstain'd by any earthly dye ;
It ceas'd that spotless look to heaven to raise,
And downwards on a streamlet fix'd its gaze ;
It saw its ivory petals mirror'd there,
And blush'd to see itself so very fair ;
The consciousness of beauty changed its hue,
And the white Rose the lovely red one grew.