Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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WHITE ROSE. |
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| VIII. |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
WHITE ROSE.
There it lay in the terrible slough of the slums,
There it lay in the gutter and mire,
And it burned with the beauty of fire
That repelled the rude grasp of the envious thumbs,
And hard fingers that quarrelled with dogs for mere crumbs,
But shrunk back from one dainty desire;
There it lay
In broad day,
A white rose,
That looked bigger and brighter,
And fairer and whiter
Because of its muddy repose.
There it lay in the gutter and mire,
And it burned with the beauty of fire
That repelled the rude grasp of the envious thumbs,
And hard fingers that quarrelled with dogs for mere crumbs,
But shrunk back from one dainty desire;
There it lay
In broad day,
A white rose,
That looked bigger and brighter,
And fairer and whiter
Because of its muddy repose.
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How it came in that squalid and pestilent gloom,
With its message of mercy and light
For the shadow more dreadful than night,
No one knew as they gazed at the delicate bloom
All askance when they passed to the sin and the doom,
Though they felt and they hated their blight;
No one knew
Where it grew,
Whence it dropt,
As it seemed to wax sweeter
And blossom completer,
But no one to gather it stopt.
With its message of mercy and light
For the shadow more dreadful than night,
No one knew as they gazed at the delicate bloom
All askance when they passed to the sin and the doom,
Though they felt and they hated their blight;
No one knew
Where it grew,
Whence it dropt,
As it seemed to wax sweeter
And blossom completer,
But no one to gather it stopt.
There it lay in the thick of the horror and shame
Like a challenge from heaven sent down,
To the drab with her mud-spattered gown
And the creature unsexed, and but woman in name;
While to each it seemed different—awful as flame,
A reproach, or the glimpse of a crown;
There it lay
On their way,
A white rose,
Just like silvery metal,
No stain in a petal,
As if it had more to disclose.
Like a challenge from heaven sent down,
To the drab with her mud-spattered gown
And the creature unsexed, and but woman in name;
While to each it seemed different—awful as flame,
A reproach, or the glimpse of a crown;
There it lay
On their way,
A white rose,
Just like silvery metal,
No stain in a petal,
As if it had more to disclose.
Now and then some went slower and almost stood still,
A rough child that if tended were fair
With the halo not fled from his hair
Which the angels had fondled, before his blind will
In the darkness around him as comrade chose ill,
Or a girl with yet innocent air;
But none could,
And none would
Venture quite
For a moment to linger
Or touch with a finger,
That purity dreadful and white.
A rough child that if tended were fair
With the halo not fled from his hair
Which the angels had fondled, before his blind will
In the darkness around him as comrade chose ill,
Or a girl with yet innocent air;
But none could,
And none would
Venture quite
For a moment to linger
Or touch with a finger,
That purity dreadful and white.
Till at last from the mob and the misery crept
A lame girl with the glory of fears,
And the jewels of penitent tears;
While virginity that had so long in her slept,
Now awoke as from dreams, and in melody leapt
To the early desire of the years;
Sweet and low
In the glow
Of delight,
Down she knelt with her meanness
And conscious uncleanness,
That turned a sick bloom to the light.
A lame girl with the glory of fears,
And the jewels of penitent tears;
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Now awoke as from dreams, and in melody leapt
To the early desire of the years;
Sweet and low
In the glow
Of delight,
Down she knelt with her meanness
And conscious uncleanness,
That turned a sick bloom to the light.
With a thrill of unworthiness flushing her face,
Then she guiltily thrust in her breast
The strange prize that in passion was prest,
And the freshness with all its ineffable grace
In a moment came back to her tender embrace,
As a homing shy bird to its nest;
There it grew,
There it blew,
As with those
Who are true to their nature
And rise to full stature,
With roots in her heart—the White Rose.
Then she guiltily thrust in her breast
The strange prize that in passion was prest,
And the freshness with all its ineffable grace
In a moment came back to her tender embrace,
As a homing shy bird to its nest;
There it grew,
There it blew,
As with those
Who are true to their nature
And rise to full stature,
With roots in her heart—the White Rose.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |