Lover and Thinker

   . . . 
The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
  They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
  More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world. 
   . . . 
And I am not resigned.