The Poetry Corner


By Paul Laurence Dunbar

If 'twere fair to suppose That your heart were not taken, That the dew from the rose Petals still were not shaken, I should pluck you, Howe'er you should thorn me and scorn me, And wear you for life as the green of the bower. If 'twere fair to suppose That that road was for vagrants, That the wind and the rose, Counted all in their fragrance; Oh, my dear one, By love, I should take you and make you, The green of my life from the scintillant hour.