The Nightingale and the Rose

Short poem on the homonymous book by Oscar Wilde.

At the lovers meeting

Hidden from the golden blaze

There it blooms, happy little symphony

Wherefore are you so sweet a sinner

At this nightly hour

Out, you chose to come

To grace the sunlight’s after hours 

With funeral happiness

To bring to bear

The scarlet lotus

Of bittersweet agony

And vain struggle