If love could have a color, I suppose
it wouldn’t be just any common shade.
I’d name it for the colors of the rose.
In heaven’s hues this flower is arrayed!
From chaste love’s hush of pink to heady rush
that’s shown by cardinal or crimson red,
the rose reveals the grades of ardor’s blush
unto the time it’s thought that passion’s fled.
But in the tint of amaranth, the fire
endures; in purple deep it can transcend,
while yellow blooms in bliss that does not tire,
and white’s fidelity will have no end.
Though black the bud, a red will grow thereof.
By any other name, the rose is love.