I dreamt I heard a dying rose
Speak to the deathless night:
“O love, this is the tearful close
Of our impossible dreams, and those
Desires beyond delight.
Yet ere I die, to give me rest,
Take me once more upon your breast;
Hold me a burning moment there
And kiss my lips and call me fair.”

And as she spoke, I woke to weep;
The dream dissolved in tears.
Remembered words … they robbed my sleep
And echoed still, and lived to keep
Their poignance through the years.
I know when last I heard those words
Struggling like torn and wounded birds,
Whose cries beat on my heart like blows,
They were not spoken by a rose.