My Virtual Reading Room

One Perfect Rose

A single flow'r he sent me, when we met,
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet,
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret,
"My scented leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."
Love long has taken for its amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

(Dorothy Parker)