O, what is the song this late, late rose is singing?
where will its petals fall, pale orange-yellow rose?
when shall the breeze and the rose cease laughing, dancing,
when will the raindrops bring time, and loss, and tears?
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Michael, this is such a sad/joyous poem. I feel the coolness of the fall breeze as it dances around the garden's last rose, and feel winter's breath near. But you give hope for another spring - and therein lies its beauty. Thank you for sharing this thought. Scarlett
This has quite a Shakespearean feel about it.... 'If music be the food of love....' It should be sung by Feste, with lute accompaniment to a group of Sir Toby and his gently sozzled knock-abouts, or perhaps even at the court of the Duke Orsino himself.