Vachel Lindsay

The Wedding of the Rose and the Lotos

The wide Pacific waters 
And the Atlantic meet.
With cries of joy they mingle, 
In tides of love they greet. 
Above the drowned ages 
A wind of wooing blows: — 
The red rose woos the lotos, 
The lotos woos the rose . . . 

The lotos conquered Egypt. 
The rose was loved in Rome. 
Great India crowned the lotos: 
(Britain the rose’s home). 
Old China crowned the lotos, 
They crowned it in Japan. 
But Christendom adored the rose 
Ere Christendom began . . . 

The lotos speaks of slumber: 
The rose is as a dart. 
The lotos is Nirvana: 
The rose is Mary’s heart. 
The rose is deathless, restless, 
The splendor of our pain: 
The flush and fire of labor 
That builds, not all in vain. . . . 

The genius of the lotos 
Shall heal earth’s too-much fret. 
The rose, in blinding glory, 
Shall waken Asia yet. 
Hail to their loves, ye peoples! 
Behold, a world-wind blows, 
That aids the ivory lotos 
To wed the red red rose!