Explore "Said the Rose" by Joyce Kilmer on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
No flower hath so fair a face as this pale love of mine / When he bends down to kiss my heart, my petals try to twine / About his lips to hold them fast. He is so very fair, / My lover with the pale, sad face and forest-fragrant hair.
I think it is a pleasant place, this garden where I grow, / With gravel walks and grassy mounds and crosses in a row. / There is no toil nor worry here, nor clatter of the street, / And here each night my lover comes, pale, sad and very sweet.