Gateway to the Classics: Display Item
Hilda Conkling

Pink Rose-Petals

Pink rose-petals

Fluttering down in hosts,

I know what you mean

Sometimes, in Spring.

It is love you mean.


Love has a gray bird

That flutters down;

A dove that comes flying

Saying the same thing.


How happy it makes me to think of it,

Rose-petals . . . the gray dove . . .