Fireflies

An old, old couple in a blossoming garden. . . . Love, inarticulate, nestles close between them. And the old woman and the old man. And Love,

Sit watching fireflies. . . . Tiny torches flashing with pale, green light In the heavy white dew.

Oh roses. . .roses. . .roses. . .cease your blossoming! Kind crystal dew Put out the firefly torches

Before they light the little paths to sorrow. . . . Earth is too beautiful. . . . And the man and the woman are old, so old, And tired.

Now they sit quietly with calm, closed eyes. . . . Only Love, nestled close between them, And inarticulate, with folded wings, Watches the last of the fireflies in the dew.