قصيدة Nightstand with Roses
,They weren’t red nor was I angry but with something five shades lighter .than passion, I plucked the roses bald
,They weren’t red nor was I angry but with something five shades lighter .than passion, I plucked the roses bald
,Ay, gaze upon her rose-wreath’d hair ;And gaze upon her smile Seem as you drank the very air ;Her breath perfumed the while