Benjamin Rosenbaum

From “Songs of Youth”

I KNOW where you got

Your blushing cheeks,

Red rose;

And why you can bedeck

Yourself in blue,

O succory!

You too,

Fields of wheat,

Are in this plot.

You tried to keep

The secret of your grace

With the wind;

But we fools called poets

Understand your language.

And you, pure lilies of white,

You also I must call thieves.

But I’m glad you are!—

I’m glad you all are!

For Mary’s journey is far-flung,

And I must see

A glimpse of her

As she trips along.

So blush your reddest, my rose!

Show me her eyes, my succory!

Dance again, O fields of wheat!

And you, my lilies, just be white

As her little white hands.