Moth-Flowers
The pale moth
Trembles in the white moonlight;
Thus my heart trembles with love!
The rose petals fall—
The red petals of my heart;
Oh, the breath of love!
Cool, sweet tears
Of honey, the jasmine weeps;
Burning fall the tears of love.
Oh, how bitter
Is the White Poppy, Death;
There are no more dreams of love.
Jeanne Robert Foster