Minor Watson

AS a child parts the petals of a rose,

Seeking perplexed, within the perfumed core,

A tangible sweetness—so my thoughts explore

This twilit hour, through many a fragrant close,

Our interfolded years. Proud Memory shows

Old visions of far days, bright in her store

Beside the light last speech we loitered o’er;

So thornless-fair our Rose of Friendship blows.

But whence the subtle sweetness which makes rare

Slight, common joys, so they be shared by you;

Or why, that distant hour, each spirit chose

Instant the other? Sense may not lay bare

The mystery of love I thus pursue

As a child parts the petals of a rose.