My mother dresses her hair in a wreath
Not of roses or thorns or thorny roses
but an opulent garden of tulips
whereupon virtue is an ageless tenant
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A Wreath Of Tulips (To My Mother)
My mother dresses her hair in a wreath
Not of roses or thorns or thorny roses
but an opulent garden of tulips
whereupon virtue is an ageless tenant
and mirth a constant visitor
Betwixt those flawlessly wrought petals,
that fragrant foliaged labyrinth
of scarlet and yellow misgivings
is sired a glow so bright
it bereaves the blind of sight