famous poetry

the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
death's nobility again
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
we who stood
the old west, the old time
i sometimes wonder if it's really true
why do you always stand there shivering
friend, whose smile has come to be
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
music i heard with you was more than music
i was a goddess ere the marble found me