Матильда Блайнд (Mathilde Blind)

* * *

I planted a rose tree in my garden,
   In early days when the year was young;
I thought it would bear me roses, roses,
   While nights were dewy and days were long.

It bore me once, and a white rose only—
   A lovely rose with petals of light;
Like the moon in heaven, supreme and lonely;
   And the lightning struck it one summer night.

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