Roses in the Subway

A wan-cheeked girl with faded eyes
Came stumbling down the crowded car,
Clutching her burden to her breast
As though she held a star.

Roses, I swear it! Red and sweet
And struggling from her pinched white hands,
Roses... like captured hostages
From far and fairy lands!

The thunder of the rushing train
Was like a hush.... The flower scent
Breathed faintly on the stale, whirled air
Like some dim sacrament—

I saw a garden stretching out
And morning on it like a crown—
And o’er a bed of crimson bloom
My mother... stooping down.

Dana Burnet