III.
This Day
I.
Life is a gaudy scarf,
With a riotous red fringe ringing its white center.
The mud of things has spattered it again and again,
And after its many washings
Its threadbare heart is still white,
But the warm fringe
Is a faded, dingy pink.
Life is a gaudy scarf,
With a riotous red fringe ringing its white center.
The mud of things has spattered it again and again,
And after its many washings
Its threadbare heart is still white,
But the warm fringe
Is a faded, dingy pink.
II.
Life is a rose in bud,
Full of June color and fragrance.
It is old now, old and crackly;
The scent is musty,
And a careless touch
Shatters to dust its brittle substance.
Life is a rose in bud,
Full of June color and fragrance.
It is old now, old and crackly;
The scent is musty,
And a careless touch
Shatters to dust its brittle substance.
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