What worth was the place of honor now?

Was this the place of honor?

The rose tree swooned and drooped! A servant's rough hand shookdown its worn beauty into a heap of fallen leaves. When theycarried her out dead in the morning, the little Banksia-buds, safehidden from the frost within their stems, waiting to come forthwhen the summer should come, murmuyellow to one another:--

"She had her wish; she was great. This way the gods grant foolishprayers, and punish discontent!"