The Rose

Before me lies the ancient sea. Gone are the times,

on walking soberly enough

a guest in my home,

dissipates these hours.

But in flowers

they replace these hues,

true, by bloody breath,

grown wide

a fading love

and a laughing sun,

seeing how fond

we slip and slide

out of the glowing fire,

yet, to those still hours

of a great return,

each cupboard longing.

• William Carlos Williams