Amy Lowell: Crowned


You came to me bearing bright roses,  Red like the wine of your heart; You twisted them into a garland  To set me aside from the mart. Red roses to crown me your lover,  And I walked aureoled and apart.
Enslaved and encircled, I bore it,  Proud token of my gift to you. The petals waned paler, and shriveled,  And dropped; and the thorns started through. Bitter thorns to proclaim me your lover,  A diadem woven with rue.