VENGEANCE.

Let it sink, let it sink

On the pungent-petaled pink

By those poppy puffs;

Fairy-fashioned downiness,

Light, weak moth in furry dress

Of white fluffy stuffs.

Where the thin light slipping sweet

Dimples prints of Fairy feet

On the white-rose blooms,

One dim blossom delicate

Droops a face all pale with hate,

Dead with sick perfumes.

And I read the riddle wove

In this rose's course of love

For the fickle pink:—

Thou the rose's phantom art

Stealing to the pink's false heart

Vampire-like to drink.