Classic Poem

The Old Love kissed you and went by,
Without the New Love stands
With roses red to crown your head,
New roses in his hands.”

I know not if she heard at all;
I only know she bent
Above the withered blooms she held,
As one too well content.

“In this your house grown desolate
The chills of Winter cling;
The New Love waits without your gates
To lead you back to Spring.”

I know not if she heard at all;
I only know she turned
Her hands above the empty hearth,
As though the ashes burned.

The New Love singing went his way
Across the blossomed lands—
A little lad with Springtime glad
And roses in his hands.

I know not if she heard at all;
I only know she pressed,
As mothers might a little child,
The dead rose to her breast.