With Roses
In each green leaf a memory let lie:
The pain that follows on the heels of bliss
In every thorn; each waft of incense be a sign
For love: each petal of each rose a kiss!
More poems by Beatrix Demarest Lloyd
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Love and Time
Across the gardens of Life they go,
A strange, ill-mated pair;
By paths where naught but blossoms blow, … -
Night-Wind
Like some great pearl from out the Orient,
Upheld by unseen hands,—in its rich weight
An offering to adorn a queen’s proud state …