White Leopard
Henriette de Saussure Blanding
Walk stealthily, O fearful soul,
Avert the golden eyes that hold
The color of consuming flesh.
There is no white of early snow,
No pallor of residual bone,
No white rose where the late buds push
Past the frail green, so white as this
Bright presence in a fiery mist,
Still as the whiteness of new frost.
Frost fading where the gold light slants,
White rose my golden garden wants,
Turn frost to flower, celestial ghost.
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