Classic Poem

Rose Love lay dreaming where I passed,
Like flower blown from careless stem;
So still I dared to touch at last
Her white robe's hem.

Rose Love looked up and caught my hand,
Though in her eyes the sea-birds were;
When o'er my brow there blew a strand
Of cold, grey hair.

Rose Love stood up unriddling this,
Till shadows in my eyes grew old;
Then warmed the lock with sudden kiss;
Now flames it gold.