L’AMOUR AMBIGUEUX
You are the dreams we do not dare to dream,
The dim florescence of a mystic rose,
In poverty or pride love comes and goes,
We do not question what the deeps may seem
Launched on the steady current of the stream.
Gaily and hardily we hear the prose;
In youth, red sun, in age the charnel snows.
Nor see the banks where subtle flowers gleam,