Perchance, I Gave To You Flowers of Glass

Perchance, I gave to you flowers of glass, That glitter when held to the glaring sun And sing, to spring, a song of mourning bass For as the buds around them dance as one, They stand tall in unerring solitude. If these blooms, I offered to you, my sweet, With hues and colours blindingly subdued That should I drop, would shatter at my feet, Would their cold, fragile buds bring you unrest Or unforgiving edges make you bleed Or would you, instead, hold them to your breast And make them, as you would, mere common weed Would you hold them and kiss them with love of me And with that love, let them bloom merrily.