If once a love

If once a love was a love;
 
Thy rose never failed to bloom
 
Thus has, though under cold
 
Frost from circumstance above
 
Deceived thee of thy false doom.
 
Grower of thee why dost thou
 
Hold thy work upon thorns?
 
Ignorance blinds thine eyes
 
Yet masochist bleeds and allows
 
The rose to give to be given to who scorns,
 
Whose beauty lures seductively,
 
To wither those that don't know.
 
Again thy rose is pelt in frost.
 
Again thy love forlornly dies.