Stupidity by Amy Lowell Lyrics

Dearest, forgive that with my clumsy touch
         I broke and bruised your rose.
         I hardly could suppose
It were a thing so fragile that my clutch
                 Could kill it, thus.

It stood so proudly up upon its stem,
         I knew no thought of fear,
         And coming very near
Fell, overbalanced, to your garment's hem,
                 Tearing it down.

Now, stooping, I upgather, one by one,
         The crimson petals, all
         Outspread about my fall.
They hold their fragrance still, a blood-red cone
                 Of memory.

And with my words I carve a little jar
         To keep their scented dust,
         Which, opening, you must
Breathe to your soul, and, breathing, know me far
                 More grieved than you.