Poems (Chilton, 1885) — Sub Rosa

I pluck for you
Still wet with dew
Fresh flowers of every shape and hue,
Which 'neath the skies
Of your blue eyes
Shall fairer seem than where they grew.

This bursting rose
The passion shows
Which my poor lips would fain disclose;
O let it rest
Upon your breast,
And breathe the secret that it knows!