One Red Rose

When conversing with a lady sweet as thee
I’d command all flooding waters quiet be
But, since nature’s not for telling what to do,
I’ll cup my ears from all sounds not of you.
Floods and storms and thunders crash the air!
I lean more close, to hear your words so fair.
Hurricanes, tornadoes, blast and blow!
I nothing hear but your sweet whisper’s flow.
Should earthquakes rock, and make these walls a pile,
I’d listen to the love-lance in your smile—
Spearing eyes, soul, and mind with such a sound
I’d hold my head for music so profound!
Our converse, then, if it would rightly close,
Would send me through the wreck for one red rose.

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