Three rosebuds did I bring thee, that thou my heart shouldst know,
And one was faith of childhood -- that shattered shall not grow,
Scented with breath of angels, and white as sifted snow,
Three rosebuds did I bring thee, that thou my heart shouldst know.
Three rosebuds did I bring thee, and one was like the morn,
Pink-flushed with tender fancies of gold days yet unborn,
And this was honest friendship, that can be bravely worn --
The butt for no man's laughter, and for no woman's scorn --
Three rosebuds did I bring thee, and one was fair as morn.
Three rosebuds did I bring thee ... for three thou wouldst have had;
The third is red with passion ... sun-kissed ... and sweet ... and sad ...
The first will stir remembrance ... the second make thee glad ...
The last ... is not for thee, nor me ... the rose we might have had.
First published in The Australasian, 4 July 1908
