Classic and Contemporary Poetry

WHITE ROSES, by ADELE BABBITT
First Line: White roses speak to me
Last Line: And sorrows healed of pain.
Subject(s): Flowers; Grief; Roses; Sorrow; Sadness

White roses speak to me
Of moon-drenched summer nights,
When growing things hold high
Their eager cups for dew.
They tell of cloistered shade
Against the burning noon,
And cooling hands
Upon an aching, fevered brow.
They breathe out memories
Of homing paths at dusk,
And sorrows healed of pain.