Classic Poem

I. With A B OUQUET OF T WELVE R OSES

I saw Lord Buddha towering by my gate
Saying: " Once more, good youth, I stand and wait. "
Saying: " I bring you my fair Law of Peace
And from your withering passion full release;
Release from that white hand that stabbed you so.
The road is calling. With the wind you go,
Forgetting her imperious disdain —
Quenching all memory in the sun and rain. "

" Excellent Lord, I come. But first, " I said,
" Grant that I bring her these twelve roses red.
Yea, twelve flower kisses for her rose-leaf mouth,
And then indeed I go in bitter drouth
To that far valley where your river flows
In Peace, that once I found in every rose. "