SONGS OF THE SOUL
THE BLOOD OF ROSE
I tore the rose,
I bled its slender stem,
Its petals quivered
And I shivered;
Yet I dared to rob its smell!
My heart did break and tell,
“Thy hands are soiled,” and mute I stood,
Thus self-condemned and stained with rose’s blood.
But I know now,
I love the rose
More than its wealth, and vow
Ne’er its love to desecrate or lose.
I bled its slender stem,
Its petals quivered
And I shivered;
Yet I dared to rob its smell!
My heart did break and tell,
“Thy hands are soiled,” and mute I stood,
Thus self-condemned and stained with rose’s blood.
But I know now,
I love the rose
More than its wealth, and vow
Ne’er its love to desecrate or lose.
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