Don't kill this rose for me,
For it will never smell as sweet
as a love that never was,
and a bloom that will never be.
Don't force the tattered petals
To wilt slowly and decay;
This is beauty-preserved incarnate,
Far longer lasting than love's sway.
For this rose will repeat forever
If it is allowed the chance to grow --
Unlike a love that never was,
Or a bloom we'll never know.
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You know you're going insane when you start laughing at witty jokes in Milton's essays. "And must tradition then ever thus to the world's end be the perpetual cankerworm to eat out God's commandments?" Lol Milton I love you.
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