(VERSES WRITTEN UNDER A PICTURE.) 
INSCRIBED TO J. A. WHISTLER. 

I. 
White rose in red rose-garden 
Is not so white; 
Snowdrops that plead for pardon 
And pine for fright 
Because the hard East blows 
Over their maiden rows 
Grow not as this face grows from pale to bright.


Behind the veil, forbidden, 
Shut up from sight, 
Love, is there sorrow hidden, 
Is there delight? 
Is joy thy dower or grief, 
White rose of weary leaf, 
Late rose whose life is brief, whose loves are light?


Soft snows that hard winds harden 
Till each flake bite 
Fill all the flowerless garden 
Whose flowers took flight 
Long since when summer ceased, 
And men rose up from feast, 
And warm west wind grew east, and warm day night.




II. 
"Come snow, come wind or thunder 
High up in air, 
I watch my face, and wonder 
At my bright hair; 
Nought else exalts or grieves 
The rose at heart, that heaves 
With love of her own leaves and lips that pair.


"She knows not loves that kissed her 
She knows not where. 
Art thou the ghost, my sister, 
White sister there, 
Am I the ghost, who knows? 
My hand, a fallen rose, 
Lies snow-white on white snows, and takes no care.


"I cannot see what pleasures 
Or what pains were; 
What pale new loves and treasures 
New years will bear; 
What beam will fall, what shower, 
What grief or joy for dower; 
But one thing knows the flower; the flower is fair."




III. 
Glad, but not flushed with gladness, 
Since joys go by; 
Sad, but not bent with sadness, 
Since sorrows die; 
Deep in the gleaming glass 
She sees all past things pass, 
And all sweet life that was lie down and lie.


There glowing ghosts of flowers 
Draw down, draw nigh; 
And wings of swift spent hours 
Take flight and fly; 
She sees by formless gleams, 
She hears across cold streams, 
Dead mouths of many dreams that sing and sigh.


Face fallen and white throat lifted, 
With sleepless eye 
She sees old loves that drifted, 
She knew not why, 
Old loves and faded fears 
Float down a stream that hears 
The flowing of all men's tears beneath the sky.