It seems that all the roses lay here dead
To wither as the love that saw them grow.
The greying petals pegs the lover's bed
That fairest high by touch has too this low.
The fallen eyelids blink when breezes hush
And eyes of red recount the missing trims
Then bounds the sigh of whimpered love me nots
To whirl in loss around the hollowed limbs
Where blossoms grew, to leave love's loveless spots.
Ah! Roses too will meet the fate of dust
Tho' long the stay, new kisses sweep away
For then; has won anew and saved the rust
And lift the lover from their bed to play.

If love has lost, the outlook bleaks distort
Until a newer rose meets love's retort.