The Rondel Of The Dying Roses
It is the time when roses die,
They die in gardens, and in me –
They were so full of life and glee,
And now they droop with a faint sigh.
Through everything cold shivers fly.
Despondency’s in all we see.
It is the time when roses die –
They die in gardens, and in me.
Beneath the dismal twilight sky
There eddies many a faint sigh;
And towards the long night to be
They gently bend their heads so shy –
It is the time when roses die.
When I was hatred I was great,
While I, today, all things above,
Am great – great for I feel I’m love,
Great for with Lethe I share the fate.
Yes, mercilessness makes you great,
But high you fly, high like a dove
When nothing is your heart but love,
When mercy does your soul elate.
I know: all things bear sorrow’s weight,
Through life in ignorance we rove,
But every solace is in love,
And even if distress be great,
Elation is: forgive, forget.