I saw him where the rose was red Pressing the cruel thorns between His hands until his pale palms bled, As he walked through my garden-space And on his face Such sorrow as I had not seen. "Sad Stranger, who are you that walk Where loveliness has birth? Why are your palms all torn and dark?" He broke another rose blood-red And turned and said: "Yourself stripped of your mask of mirth." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GREEN MOUNTAIN IDYL by HAYDEN CARRUTH MOTHER (MARGERY CARRUTH, 1896-1981) by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE WAY OF THE CONVENTICLE OF THE TREES by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE TEMPTRESS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON JONES'S PRIVATE ARGYMENT by SIDNEY LANIER TO TWO UNKNOWN LADIES by AMY LOWELL |