ONE ROSE!
OOne—dropped from her breastAs she passed along,Like a fluttering bird from a nest,Or the final note of a song—One—as fragile and fairAs the woman herself, I swear!With the light of a thousand sunbeams caught in the waves of her golden hair!One—white as the snow—It fell at her feet,When her laughter, clear and low,Replied to the fervid heatOf my love-words wild and vain,And my heart grew numb with painAs her mirthful mockery crushed my heart, and maddened my foolish brain.Farewell to my dream!I should have knownThat however fair she may seem,Her heart is as cold as stone,A mirror of social vice,A sparkling nugget of ice,Valued at “so much” or more, and ready for sale at its market price!A “society star?”Yes, that is true:She is proud; such women are;Yet perhaps she will smile on rule!Your turn will come, maybe:Who knows? perchance you will seeThe lying glances, the treacherous smiles she lately lavished on me.If so, you can sayYou met me to-night:Tell her I went my wayDespising her trumpery slight:Man, after all, is king—He can laugh at the little stingOf a woman’s scorn, when the woman herself is so poor and low a thing.One rose!—it will fadeEre an hour be past—Such hothouse blossoms are only made,Like women—to wither fast—Its leaves will upcurl and dieIn an odorous silent sigh,And only its little ghost will speak of my transient love gone by.One rose—it is mineTo keep for a while—I fancy it will not greatly pineFor the loss of her ladyship’s smile—By a cluster of diamonds prest,’Twas slain on her chilly breast;Together we’ll go, the rose and I—we both have need of rest!
OOne—dropped from her breastAs she passed along,Like a fluttering bird from a nest,Or the final note of a song—One—as fragile and fairAs the woman herself, I swear!With the light of a thousand sunbeams caught in the waves of her golden hair!One—white as the snow—It fell at her feet,When her laughter, clear and low,Replied to the fervid heatOf my love-words wild and vain,And my heart grew numb with painAs her mirthful mockery crushed my heart, and maddened my foolish brain.Farewell to my dream!I should have knownThat however fair she may seem,Her heart is as cold as stone,A mirror of social vice,A sparkling nugget of ice,Valued at “so much” or more, and ready for sale at its market price!A “society star?”Yes, that is true:She is proud; such women are;Yet perhaps she will smile on rule!Your turn will come, maybe:Who knows? perchance you will seeThe lying glances, the treacherous smiles she lately lavished on me.If so, you can sayYou met me to-night:Tell her I went my wayDespising her trumpery slight:Man, after all, is king—He can laugh at the little stingOf a woman’s scorn, when the woman herself is so poor and low a thing.One rose!—it will fadeEre an hour be past—Such hothouse blossoms are only made,Like women—to wither fast—Its leaves will upcurl and dieIn an odorous silent sigh,And only its little ghost will speak of my transient love gone by.One rose—it is mineTo keep for a while—I fancy it will not greatly pineFor the loss of her ladyship’s smile—By a cluster of diamonds prest,’Twas slain on her chilly breast;Together we’ll go, the rose and I—we both have need of rest!
OOne—dropped from her breastAs she passed along,Like a fluttering bird from a nest,Or the final note of a song—One—as fragile and fairAs the woman herself, I swear!With the light of a thousand sunbeams caught in the waves of her golden hair!
O
One—dropped from her breast
As she passed along,
Like a fluttering bird from a nest,
Or the final note of a song—
One—as fragile and fair
As the woman herself, I swear!
With the light of a thousand sunbeams caught in the waves of her golden hair!
One—white as the snow—It fell at her feet,When her laughter, clear and low,Replied to the fervid heatOf my love-words wild and vain,And my heart grew numb with painAs her mirthful mockery crushed my heart, and maddened my foolish brain.
One—white as the snow—
It fell at her feet,
When her laughter, clear and low,
Replied to the fervid heat
Of my love-words wild and vain,
And my heart grew numb with pain
As her mirthful mockery crushed my heart, and maddened my foolish brain.
Farewell to my dream!I should have knownThat however fair she may seem,Her heart is as cold as stone,A mirror of social vice,A sparkling nugget of ice,Valued at “so much” or more, and ready for sale at its market price!
Farewell to my dream!
I should have known
That however fair she may seem,
Her heart is as cold as stone,
A mirror of social vice,
A sparkling nugget of ice,
Valued at “so much” or more, and ready for sale at its market price!
A “society star?”Yes, that is true:She is proud; such women are;Yet perhaps she will smile on rule!Your turn will come, maybe:Who knows? perchance you will seeThe lying glances, the treacherous smiles she lately lavished on me.
A “society star?”
Yes, that is true:
She is proud; such women are;
Yet perhaps she will smile on rule!
Your turn will come, maybe:
Who knows? perchance you will see
The lying glances, the treacherous smiles she lately lavished on me.
If so, you can sayYou met me to-night:Tell her I went my wayDespising her trumpery slight:Man, after all, is king—He can laugh at the little stingOf a woman’s scorn, when the woman herself is so poor and low a thing.
If so, you can say
You met me to-night:
Tell her I went my way
Despising her trumpery slight:
Man, after all, is king—
He can laugh at the little sting
Of a woman’s scorn, when the woman herself is so poor and low a thing.
One rose!—it will fadeEre an hour be past—Such hothouse blossoms are only made,Like women—to wither fast—Its leaves will upcurl and dieIn an odorous silent sigh,And only its little ghost will speak of my transient love gone by.
One rose!—it will fade
Ere an hour be past—
Such hothouse blossoms are only made,
Like women—to wither fast—
Its leaves will upcurl and die
In an odorous silent sigh,
And only its little ghost will speak of my transient love gone by.
One rose—it is mineTo keep for a while—I fancy it will not greatly pineFor the loss of her ladyship’s smile—By a cluster of diamonds prest,’Twas slain on her chilly breast;Together we’ll go, the rose and I—we both have need of rest!
One rose—it is mine
To keep for a while—
I fancy it will not greatly pine
For the loss of her ladyship’s smile—
By a cluster of diamonds prest,
’Twas slain on her chilly breast;
Together we’ll go, the rose and I—we both have need of rest!