I will not have roses in my room again, br Nor listen to sonnets of Michael Angelo br To-night nor any night, nor fret my brain br With all the trouble of things that I should know. br I will be as other women-come and go br Careless and free, my own self sure and sane, br As I was once . . .then suddenly you were there br With your old power . . . roses were everywhere br And I was listening to Michael Angelo.