The Yellow Book/Volume 4/Red Rose
Red Rose
By Leila Macdonald
Why do your leaves uncurl invisibly?Is it mere pride?When I behold your petals,They lie immovably against your breast;Or opened wide,Your shield thrown wide.But none may watch the unveiling of your pride.
Why do you die so soon, so certainly?Death is disgrace;You should stay dying half your life;Your drooping face Gives you when dying your divinest face.But death's pale colours are your sole disgrace.