free-verse18 lines
From Sudden Death. . . .
by Margaret Steele AndersonRoses about my way, and roses still!
0, I must pick and have my very fill!
Red for my heart and white upon my hair
And still I shall have roses and to spare!
My child, I save thee thorns! Dear little friend,
This is the end!
So long the road, so lone the road and gray,
My bleeding feet must travel many a day!
With not an inn where I may stop and rest,
With not a roof that claims me for its guest!
Hush! the road vanishes! Yes, yes, poor friend,
This is the end!
O Lord, let thou thy servant go in peace!
Now I have rounded out life's perfect lease,
Spare me the clouded brain, the dark'ning eye,
Nor let me be a burden ere I die!
Thou shalt not he! Nay, even now, old friend,
This is the end!