Red Rose

Red Rose


Leila Macdonald

WHY do your leaves uncurl invisibly ?
    Is it mere pride ?
When I behold your petals,
They lie immovably against your breast ;
    Or opened wide,
Your shield thrown wide.
But none may watch the unveiling of your pride.

Why do you die so soon, so certainly ?
    Death is disgrace ;
You should stay dying half your life ;
    Your drooping face
Gives you when dying your divinest face.
But death's pale colours are your sole disgrace.

MLA citation: Macdonald, Leila. "Red Rose." The Yellow Book 4 (Jan. 1895): 143. The Yellow Nineties Online. Ed. Dennis Denisoff and Lorraine Janzen Kooistra. Ryerson University, 2011. Web. [Date of access].