I saw Lord Buddha towering by my gate
Saying: 'Once more, good youth, I stand and wait.'
Saying: 'I bring you my fair Law of Peace
And from your withering passion full release;
Release from that white hand that stabbed you so.
The road is calling. With the wind you go,
Forgetting her imperious disdain —
Quenching all memory in the sun and rain.'
'Excellent Lord, I come. But first,' I said,
'Grant that I bring her these twelve roses red.
Yea, twelve flower kisses for her rose-leaf mouth,
And then indeed I go in bitter drouth
To that far valley where your river flows
In Peace, that once I found in every rose.'
Vachel Lindsay
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/with-a-bouquet-of-twelve-roses-2/
