The button rose

It is a moment’s rose
Just a button in leaves
In a hole of memory.
A button rose in a hole.
Button it up, will you.

It rose in a stair-space
Of shuffling feet of time,
An idea of button-smell
Like a new cloth smell.

Before it reaches God
As incense not offered
As oil-lamp not lighted
Button it up,will you?

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