Rose's Rose

Once upon a time, some evening,

when the night was bound to set in

and the guests were gladly sitting

and the wedding would start on,

Then came in a charming stranger,

counted far among the sager,

and his eyes spelled out danger,

for they lovely beauty bore.

Ladies gathered all around him.

Gentlemen curiously cut in.

Everyone was silent as he

a story of horror did unfold.

For the fright was his profession;

A policeman, in possession

of great mind, and great obsession

with the crimes of night he was.

“Gentlemen and ladies”, said he,

“crimes I’ve witnessed, more than any,

crimes so frightful, crimes so scary,

that obsession is the toll.

I remember it, so clearly,

once upon a time, some evening,

when the night was bound to set in

and a wedding would start on,

Of the window in the parlour,

an arena of beauty and ardour,

full of red and yellow flower,

I rose curious to head for.

And the moment it received me,

an entity had come to greet me,

with a smile so pure and fleeting,

I had never seen before.

Dressed in white, she came to see me.

Bridesmaid of the wedding she’d be

and I asked her name, and sweetly,

she then said My name is Rose.

Thou art beautiful she whispered,

took my hands and softly kissed them.

Then a lovely rose she seized and

pricked her fingers with a thorn.

And her fingers started bleeding.

On the petals, blood was dripping

and her dekko now had drilled in

to the depths of my own soul.

Wilt thou marry me? she asked me.

Yonder rose she placéd placid

on my palm; rose black as acid

I had instantly adored.

‘Rose,’ said I, ‘my love, I cannot,

for thou art a child; I am not.

But, some day, you will grow up and

that’s the day I’m waiting for.

But my promise shall have withered

faster than this rose you’ve gathered,

for too young thou art, and I can

never be young anymore.

But my word I’m thither giving;

to thy girly charm I’ll give in.

Down the aisle we’ll walk and we will

marry, if that’s what you wait for.’

With these words we two then parted.

To my seat I had just passed to,

and the wedding had just started,

when a cry the night air tore.

Cries that distance could not smother,

cries by a woman who, no other

could have been but Rose’s mother.

On my knees did she implore;

‘I beseech thee, find my daughter,

lest some villain has just caught her

and away from me has got her!

My poor Rose will be forlorn!’

Then my hands had started trembling,

and the guests, to my side turning

with their eyes, my insides burning,

said ‘What are ye waiting for?

For ye certainly have seen him

just before the night had set in,

talking to the child before she

vanished to be seen no more!’

But so lovely did they find me

and so beauteous, and so charming

that there was some understanding

‘twas not I they’re looking for.

Every day until this evening

there has been no single evening

that has gone by without dreaming

what has happened, pray Good Lord!

And as every moment lapses,

then my heart to bits collapses

that I cannot fathom what she’s

done and what fate has in store.

And as every moment passes

as clock finger with time dances,

and since those few, fleeting glances,

Rose is seventeen years old.

Every day, on my leaving

to my work, below the ceiling

a black rose has been relieving

my pain, just above the clock.

Yonder rose I stare enchanted

Rose’s rose I’m gazing placid

Rose with blood, rose black as acid

that has not withered at all!”

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