Love, the Painter

Ah, what indeed, the rose is red,

     And what, the violet’s blue,

And what if life with joy is rife,

     If I cannot have you?

And what if birds sing all the day,

     And summer skies are blue?

This world is gray to me by day  

     When I cannot see you!

The rose is red – it might be black –

     The violet not blue,

The summer’s sun a dreary dun,

     If I cannot have you.

‘Tis you who make the roses red,

     And life a brighter hue;

‘Tis you who bring the shades of spring,

     And loves’ skies with the blue!

May 13, ‘10