Sub Rosa
Under the rows of gas-jets bright,
Bathed in a blazing river of light,
A regal beauty sits; above her
The butterflies of fashion hover,
And burn their wings, and take to flight.
Mark you her pure complexion,-white
Though flush may follow flush? Despite
Her blush, the lily I discover
Under the rose.
All compliments to her are trite;
She has adorers left and right;
And I confess, here, under cover
Of secrecy, I too-I love her!
Say naught; she knows it not. ’Tis quite
Under the rose.
Brander Matthews.