ONE ROSE!

One—dropped from her breast As she passed along, Like a fluttering bird from a nest, Or the final note of a song— One—as fragile and fair As the woman herself, I swear! With the light of a thousand sunbeams caught in the waves of her golden hair! One—white as the snow— It fell at her feet, When her laughter, clear and low, Replied to the fervid heat Of my love-words wild and vain, And my heart grew numb with pain As her mirthful mockery crushed my heart, and maddened my foolish brain. Farewell to my dream! I should have known That however fair she may seem, Her heart is as cold as stone, A mirror of social vice, A sparkling nugget of ice, Valued at “so much” or more, and ready for sale at its market price! A “society star?” Yes, that is true: She is proud; such women are; Yet perhaps she will smile on rule! Your turn will come, maybe: Who knows? perchance you will see The lying glances, the treacherous smiles she lately lavished on me. If so, you can say You met me to-night: Tell her I went my way Despising her trumpery slight: Man, after all, is king— He can laugh at the little sting Of a woman’s scorn, when the woman herself is so poor and low a thing. One rose!—it will fade Ere an hour be past— Such hothouse blossoms are only made, Like women—to wither fast— Its leaves will upcurl and die In an odorous silent sigh, And only its little ghost will speak of my transient love gone by. One rose—it is mine To keep for a while— I fancy it will not greatly pine For the loss of her ladyship’s smile— By a cluster of diamonds prest, ’Twas slain on her chilly breast; Together we’ll go, the rose and I—we both have need of rest!