Poetry

Thomas Bailey Aldrich – Destiny

Three roses, wan as moonlight, and weighed down
Each with its loveliness as with a crown,
Drooped in a florist’s window in a town.

The first a lover bought. It lay at rest,
Like flower on flower, that night, on Beauty’s breast.

The second rose, as virginal and fair,
Shrunk in the tangles of a harlot’s hair.

The third, a widow, with new grief made wild,
Shut in the icy palm of her dead child.

HydraGT

Social media scholar. Troublemaker. Twitter specialist. Unapologetic web evangelist. Explorer. Writer. Organizer.

Related Articles

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Back to top button