Edith Matilda Thomas

The Betrayal of the Rose

A WHITE rose had a sorrow--
    And a strange sorrow! 
For her sisters they had none,
As they all sat around her
    Each on her feudal throne. 
      A strange sorrow 
For one with no to-morrow,
No yesterday, to call her own,
      But only to-day.

A white rose had a sorrow--
    And a sweet sorrow! 
She locked it in her breast
    Save that one outer petal, 
    Less guarded than the rest 
      (Oh, fond sorrow!), 
    From the red rose did borrow 
Blushes, and the truth confessed
      In the red rose's way!