The rose upon the garden wall, Is steep’d in dew, each petal glows And like my thoughts it sways and falls, For beauty comes, but beauty goes. The fragrance lingers in the air, A fleeting dream from a summer fair.
- John Maynard Keynes
The rose upon the garden wall, Is steep’d in dew, each petal glows And like my thoughts it sways and falls, For beauty comes, but beauty goes. The fragrance lingers in the air, A fleeting dream from a summer fair.