A SINGLE rose, a thousand thorns,
A tropic day, a polar night,
A wound that every ointment scorns,
A weakness that is more than might.
MIST.FOAM of the wind-waves, lightly driven
Through the blue ether and lower air,
Thou art like a stainless hope in heaven,
On earth thou seemest a white despair.
VIOLETS.BORN of heaven, and heaven-endued,
Fair and wise and chaste and free,
Simple-hearted, modest-hued, -
Ye are what my love shall be.
C. F. L.
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