Yea, The Roses Are Still On Fire

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Yea, the roses are still on fire
  With the bygone heat of July,
  Though the least little wind drifting by
Shake a rose-leaf or two from the brier,
  Be it never so soft a sigh.

Ember of love still glows and lingers
  Deep at the red heart's smouldering core;
  With the sudden passionate throb of yore
We shook as our eyes and clinging fingers
  Met once only to meet no more.

© Mathilde Blind