Alan Seeger

On a Theme in the Greek Anthology

Thy petals yet are closely curled,
⁠Rose of the world,
Around their scented, golden core;
Nor yet has Summer purpled o’er
Thy tender clusters that begin
⁠To swell within
The dewy vine-leaves’ early screen
⁠Of sheltering green.

O hearts that are Love’s helpless prey,
⁠While yet you may,
Fly, ere the shaft is on the string!
The fire that now is smouldering
Shall be the conflagration soon
⁠Whose paths are strewn
With torment of blanched lips and eyes
⁠That agonize.