To Hilda of Her Roses
Enough has been said about roses
To fill thirty thick volumes;
There are as many songs about roses
As there are roses in the world
That includes Mexico … the Azores … Oregon…
It is a pity your roses
Are too late for Omar…
It is a pity Keats has gone…
Yet there must be something left to say
Of flowers like these!
Adventurers,
They pushed their way
Through dewy tunnels of the June night
Now they confer….
A little tremulous….
Dazzled by the yellow sea-beach of morning
If Herrick would tiptoe back…
If Blake were to look this way
Ledwidge, even!
GRACE HAZARD CONKLING