« I wanted to bring you roses this morning;
But I had taken so many in my closed belts
That the knots were too tight and could not contain them.
The knots burst. The roses flew away
In the wind, to the sea, they all went away.
They followed the water never to return;
The wave seemed red and as if inflamed.
This evening, my dress is still all perfumed with them…
Breathe on me the fragrant memory of them… » (Marceline Desbordes-Valmore)