Rose Revisited
Deception envelops where petals close
The glistening dawn of beauty grows
Yet truth will fade and knowledge knows
That as pitch engulfs the flower-close,
Will it reopen?
Love stems from futile harrows.
Nor beauty, infatuation, nor vain hollows
It obeys, nor time's insouciant largoes,
Nor fruits, from friendship's casual throes,
Is there hope yet?
If fear's self-conscious and hope bestows
The shallow desire, the night flambeaux,
The black abyss of widening woes -
Then hope resides deep, weakened, pierced with arrows.
The fairest blossom of the garden dies.
The winter frosts tear through verdurous groves,
Yet thorns protect - a budding blushing rose.
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