Explore "For M. L. P" by Olive Tilford Dargan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Rose Love lay dreaming where I passed, / Like flower blown from careless stem; / So still I dared to touch at last / Her white robe's hem.
Rose Love looked up and caught my hand, / Though in her eyes the sea-birds were; / When o'er my brow there blew a strand / Of cold, grey hair.
Rose Love stood up unriddling this, / Till shadows in my eyes grew old; / Then warmed the lock with sudden kiss; / Now flames it gold.