Perchance, I Gave To You Flowers of Glass
Perchance, I gave to you flowers of glass,
That glitter when held to the glaring sun
And sing, to spring, a song of mourning bass
For as the buds around them dance as one,
They stand tall in unerring solitude.
If these blooms, I offered to you, my sweet,
With hues and colours blindingly subdued
That should I drop, would shatter at my feet,
Would their cold, fragile buds bring you unrest
Or unforgiving edges make you bleed
Or would you, instead, hold them to your breast
And make them, as you would, mere common weed
Would you hold them and kiss them with love of me
And with that love, let them bloom merrily.
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