BURNT ARE THE PETALS OF LIFEBurnt are the petals of life as a rose fallen and crumbled to dust.Blackened the heart of the past is, ashes that mustForever be sifted, more precious than sunbeams thatopen the budding to-morrow.Once was a passion completed,-too perfect, theGods have not broken to borrow—Blackened the heart of the past is, ashes that mustForever be sifted. O, loving to-morrowThe rose of the past is, Life-Eternity’s dust.ELSIE PUMPELLY CABOT
Burnt are the petals of life as a rose fallen and crumbled to dust.Blackened the heart of the past is, ashes that mustForever be sifted, more precious than sunbeams thatopen the budding to-morrow.Once was a passion completed,-too perfect, theGods have not broken to borrow—Blackened the heart of the past is, ashes that mustForever be sifted. O, loving to-morrowThe rose of the past is, Life-Eternity’s dust.
ELSIE PUMPELLY CABOT