THREE QUATRAINSTHE CUPShe said, “Lift high the cup!”Of her arm’s weariness she gave no sign,But, smiling, raised it upThat none might see or guess it held no wine.FORGIVE ME NOT!Forgive me not! Hate me and I shall knowSome of Love’s fire still burns within your breast!Forgiveness finds its home in hearts at rest,On dead volcanoes only lies the snow.THE ROSEOne deep red rose I dropped into his grave,So small a thing to give so great a friend!Yet well he knew it was my heart I gaveAnd must fare on without it to the end,LILLA CABOT PERRY
She said, “Lift high the cup!”Of her arm’s weariness she gave no sign,But, smiling, raised it upThat none might see or guess it held no wine.
Forgive me not! Hate me and I shall knowSome of Love’s fire still burns within your breast!Forgiveness finds its home in hearts at rest,On dead volcanoes only lies the snow.
One deep red rose I dropped into his grave,So small a thing to give so great a friend!Yet well he knew it was my heart I gaveAnd must fare on without it to the end,
LILLA CABOT PERRY