White Rose

(for Sophie Scholl)

I say, Yes to the petal lips given to Rose hearts
  as freely and easily
as all the world's real true outgrowing

  In a velvet crown
you're a sort of supermute conqueror
  of hard suns, aren't you?

  but Yes mostly to a Rose lasting in the head!
and to the cruel mossy roots
  that like  true loving arms can easily
hug and tear,

                    canceling bud and
  swelling, if need be, for a dear Something

Yes, blooming heart that'd better eventually
                                                         not grow!

  For what grows, lonely, can be un-
seasonably rare & gold for just a true time:
  it's less than clod but more
than cold, so a clear plant naming from the first

  And so my one only Rose, cela!

You are really lolling sweet and honey tongued as
  all heck, with a pink push here,
(& there),& the goodwill of an odd briny dew-
  tears below a one  true eye—

A slow-rising fulsome kind of true eye, you are.

  Earth, seen from here, is one hothouse eterne,

 wormed for claypot and urn, 

   and just where
  petals crowning sober clods
have  known it,

    and the leal & pipsqueak pinkbuds, too--

  there you are, too, ripe for angry bees.