Little Gray Songs from St. Joseph's - Part 12

O sweetest dreams, I reach to you!
You fade, you fail, you were not true.

Back from my lovely dream-garden,
I'm sent to seek the real again.

The real—here in my little room
A red, red rose of pain doth bloom,

A red, red rose of pain doth glow,
And it is real and all I know.

A wild, wild poison-rose of pain,
That I must tend in vain, in vain.

Whose hand should plant the burning rose?
O my seared soul—who knows, who knows?
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