The Noon-Sun prayed a prairie rose
To blanch for him her blossom's hue,
But to the Plain all love she owes;
Beneath that mother's grass she grew.
And sheltered by her verdant blades,
Their tints of green she made her own;
But still the Sun sought out her shades
And said, “Be my white bride alone!”
Then, sorrowing for his grievous pain,
Her sister loved the amorous god,
And blushed, ashamed, as o'er the plain
His parting beams illumed the sod.
So one sweet rose yet wears the green,
And one in sunset's crimson glows;
Still one untouched by love is seen,
And one in conscious beauty blows.