When the cruelest word of them all is spoken, And the eyes stab deep, to the devils of old; When to starving lips the bread is unbroken, For hostile things retold -- Then I go where the roses have known such grief, That the thorn was first and the gift the last; And I gather and gather, from the sin to the sheaf, All the bud -- and its past! And I bring them, beyond our passion and weighing, And my fingers are red where they spoke to me, And my eyes hold the wordless petition of praying, And my body -- the plea. And I lift them to you, as brimmed as a lake, This convoy of color, this gift -- and this debt, And by memory, anointed, they overtake What a rose would forget! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ELEGY FOR AN ENEMY by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET AGAINST THE REST OF THE YEAR by JAMES GALVIN BEARING LEAVES AGAIN by DAVID IGNATOW DREAM LIFE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FINALITY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON HOUSE WITH THE MARBLE STEPS by AMY LOWELL |