Stupidity

<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN> <h2>Stupidity</h2> <p>Dearest, forgive that with my clumsy touch<br/> I broke and bruised your rose.<br/> I hardly could suppose<br/> It were a thing so fragile that my clutch<br/> Could kill it, thus.<br/> <br/> It stood so proudly up upon its stem,<br/> I knew no thought of fear,<br/> And coming very near<br/> Fell, overbalanced, to your garment's hem,<br/> Tearing it down.<br/> <br/> Now, stooping, I upgather, one by one,<br/> The crimson petals, all<br/> Outspread about my fall.<br/> They hold their fragrance still, a blood-red cone<br/> Of memory.<br/> <br/> And with my words I carve a little jar<br/> To keep their scented dust,<br/> Which, opening, you must<br/> Breathe to your soul, and, breathing, know me far<br/> More grieved than you.<br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />