Poem by Vachel Lindsay

With a Bouquet of Twelve Roses

I saw Lord Buddha towering by my gate 
Saying: ”Once more, good youth, I stand and wait.” 
Saying: ”I bring you my fair Law of Peace 
And from your withering passion full release; 
Release from that white hand that stabbed you so. 
The road is calling. With the wind you go, 
Forgetting her imperious disdain — 
Quenching all memory in the sun and rain.” 

”Excellent Lord, I come. But first,” I said, 
”Grant that I bring her these twelve roses red. 
Yea, twelve flower kisses for her rose-leaf mouth, 
And then indeed I go in bitter drouth 
To that far valley where your river flows 
In Peace, that once I found in every rose.”

1. To the United States Senate
2. To Reformers in Despair
3. The Perfect Marriage
4. On the Building of Springfield
5. Upon Returning to the Country Road

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