Flower Fancies: II. A House Divided

In some past sunny season
A shoot and stock were wed,—
Made one by gardener’s cunning,—
A white rose and a red.

And now the rosy brothers,
All wonder, wonder why
Their sister flowers are fragile,
And strangely pale, and shy.

Those flush and shake with laughter,
These blanch and thrill with fears,
And through the leaves come stealing,
Slow-shed, their dewy tears.