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College of Arts and Sciences

Charleston Rose

By: Tucker Woodham

In many towns across this land  
Many plants do grow 
But in one town, with sea and sand  
There lives a Charleston Rose 
A Rose, not of dirt or mud 
Or filth by such feet trodden  
But one of life and flesh and blood  
One not so well forgotten  
A rose not of green or red  
Or of some painters’ tone 
but one of love and joy and peace  
One I’m happy to have known 
It cannot die, it will not wilt 
Like other flowers there 
For this fare Rose has been rebuilt 
When it was left so bare 
For it had fought a long, tough fight 
With natures toughest foe 
And if it only did give in 
This Rose I’d never know! 
This Rose, you see, it did not fade 
Nor any color lose 
Instead, it stayed in the shade 
To quit, it did refuse! 
But where, oh where this rose of myth, with colors yet unseen? 
Where does it grow, this solum Rose where so few yet have been? 
Perhaps down in a valley, away from mans’ foul hand, 
Or hidden in a grotto, in some old untouched land? 
Or buried in a field of stone, where sorrow grows like wheat, 
Where people leave their closest friends, and pray one day to meet? 
Perhaps this rose does not exist, it is merely a deceit, 
Dreamt up by some lonesome man, his sorrows to defeat! 
Fear not, my friend, for what I’ve spoken’s true! 
This little Rose of Charleston is hidden in plain view! 
In fact, dear friend, this Rose you must not find! 
For she’ll leave you oh so quick, but prey upon your mind! 


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