Down, down beneath the daisy beds, O hear the cries of pain! And moaning on the cinder-path They`re blind amid the rain. Can murmurs of the worms arise To higher hearts than mine? I wonder if that gardener hears Who made the mold all fine And packed each gentle seedling down So carefully in line? I watched the red rose reaching up To ask him if he heard Those cries that stung the evening earth Till all the rose-roots stirred. She asked him if he felt the hate That burned beneath them there. She asked him if he heard the curse Of worms in black despair. He kissed the rose. What did it mean? What of the rose`s prayer? Down, down where rain has never come They fight in burning graves, Bleeding and drinking blood Within those venom-caves. Blaspheming still the gardener`s name, They live and hate and go. I wonder if the gardener heard The rose that told him so?SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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