THE summer roses all are gone-- <br />Dead, laid in shroud of rain-wet mould; <br />And passion's lightning time is done, <br />And Love is laid out white and cold. <br />Summer and youth for us are dead, <br />What do old age and winter bring instead? <br /> <br /> <br />They bring us memories of old years, <br />And Christmas roses, cold and sweet, <br />Which, washed by not unhappy tears, <br />I bring and lay beside your feet, <br />With gifts that come with flowers like these-- <br />Friendship, remembrance of our past, and peace!<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/christmas-roses-4/
