A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

Crowned

          You came to me bearing bright roses,
           Red like the wine of your heart;
          You twisted them into a garland
           To set me aside from the mart.
          Red roses to crown me your lover,
           And I walked aureoled and apart.

          Enslaved and encircled, I bore it,
           Proud token of my gift to you.
          The petals waned paler, and shriveled,
           And dropped; and the thorns started through.
          Bitter thorns to proclaim me your lover,
           A diadem woven with rue.