University of Virginia Library


37

XIII. SISTER ROSES

O sister,” the white rose said to the red,
“Could only my face be as bright as thine!
I am pale. Could I only be pink instead,
I would lift to the sunlight my beautiful head,
And never be weary, or weep, or pine!”
“O sister,” the red rose said to the white,
“Could only my face be as pale as thine!
I am doomed to be gathered to-night, to-night,—
I shall faint at a ball in the hot gas-light,
While you will be glad in the cool moonshine.”
“Ah! sister,” the white rose sighed to the red,
“You are wrong, you are wrong, and the truth is mine.
Far better than life in the dull flower-bed
It is to be worshipped, and then to fall dead
Where live hearts flutter, and gay lights shine.”