MY ROSES.
Glowing, passionate, perfect,
Crimson fold on fold,
Packed with that exquisite beauty
Only a rose can hold—
Under the velvet petals
Hints of hidden gold.
(And oh! the swift enchantment,
Half pain, half ecstasy,
When Beauty for a moment
Turns and looks our way—
In her eyes the haunting
Old, sweet mystery!)
Others saw my roses,
Thought them lovely too,
Praised their form and fragrance,
Marvelled at their hue—
Others loved my roses—
'Twas only I that knew!
'Twas only I that fathomed
Their innermost hearts of flame,
To me alone their beauty
A sacrament became—
To me alone they whispered
The secret of your name!