While The Billy BoilsSearchOne red rose bud upon Life’s thorny tree,Like a closed gate unto dominions bright,Which Time shall open with his Key of light,Beside that gate I kneel, a devotee,And hear the hidden priests their chants intone,Within the mystic inner temple whereThe heart of all the Universe beats, bare,Thro’ parting portals, O red rose half blown!To-morrow pirate winds will spread their wings,Their soft sail-wings of faery gossamer,And, jealous, I shall hear thro’ drone and whirr,The slumbrous serenade the brown bee sings,
One last, last, hot red sunset, beauteous closeOf cycled song, that sinks into a sobOf funeral zephyrs, wailing as they rob,Petal by petal, my red, full blown rose.Shall it be so, bright talisman? Shall I,Soul-sickened, see thy full-orbed bloom decline?Nay! With thy rich heart brimmed with Nature’s wine,I pluck thee now! I cannot watch thee die!