Love
After All
From The Singing Leaves (1903)
Love
I would not now give up one hurt,
In this far light of morning;
Each one a rose, a blood-red rose,
A rose for my adorning.
Yes, and the pallor of old grief,
Too lowly even for scorning,
Is warmed into a breathing rose,
A rose for my adorning.
Cite this poem
MLA
Peabody, Josephine Preston. “After All.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/peabody/43/.
Chicago
Peabody, Josephine Preston. “After All.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/peabody/43/.
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