 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
First Rose.
“What haps to a gathered flower?”
Second Rose.
“Nay, sister, now who can tell?
One comes not back a single hour,
To say it is ill or well:
I would with such an one confer,
To know what strange things chanced to her.”
“What haps to a gathered flower?”
282
“Nay, sister, now who can tell?
One comes not back a single hour,
To say it is ill or well:
I would with such an one confer,
To know what strange things chanced to her.”
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |