 | Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr |  |
217
A FLOWER FOR THE DEAD
You placed this flower in her hand, you say?
This pure, pale rose in her hand of clay?
Could she but lift her sealèd eyes,
They would meet your own with a grieved surprise!
This pure, pale rose in her hand of clay?
Could she but lift her sealèd eyes,
They would meet your own with a grieved surprise!
She has been your wife for many a year,
When clouds hung low and when skies were clear;
At your feet she laid her life's glad spring,
And her summer's glorious blossoming.
When clouds hung low and when skies were clear;
At your feet she laid her life's glad spring,
And her summer's glorious blossoming.
Her whole heart went with the hand you won;
If its warm love waned as the years went on,
If it chilled in the grasp of an icy spell,
What was the reason? I pray you tell!
If its warm love waned as the years went on,
If it chilled in the grasp of an icy spell,
What was the reason? I pray you tell!
You cannot? I can; and beside her bier
My soul must speak and your soul must hear.
If she was not all that she might have been,
Hers was the sorrow, yours the sin.
My soul must speak and your soul must hear.
If she was not all that she might have been,
Hers was the sorrow, yours the sin.
Whose was the fault if she did not grow
Like a rose in the summer? Do you know?
Does a lily grow when its leaves are chilled?
Does it bloom when its root is winter-killed?
Like a rose in the summer? Do you know?
Does a lily grow when its leaves are chilled?
Does it bloom when its root is winter-killed?
For a little while, when you first were wed,
Your love was like sunshine round her shed;
Then a something crept between you two,
You led where she could not follow you.
Your love was like sunshine round her shed;
Then a something crept between you two,
You led where she could not follow you.
218
With a man's firm tread you went and came;
You lived for wealth, for power, for fame;
Shut in to her woman's work and ways,
She heard the nation chant your praise.
You lived for wealth, for power, for fame;
Shut in to her woman's work and ways,
She heard the nation chant your praise.
But ah! you had dropped her hand the while;
What time had you for a kiss, a smile?
You two, with the same roof overhead,
Were as far apart as the sundered dead!
What time had you for a kiss, a smile?
You two, with the same roof overhead,
Were as far apart as the sundered dead!
You, in your manhood's strength and prime;
She, worn and faded before her time.
'Tis a common story. This rose, you say,
You laid in her pallid hand to-day?
She, worn and faded before her time.
'Tis a common story. This rose, you say,
You laid in her pallid hand to-day?
When did you give her a flower before?
Ah, well!—what matter when all is o'er?
Yet stay a moment; you'll wed again.
I mean no reproach; 'tis the way of men.
Ah, well!—what matter when all is o'er?
Yet stay a moment; you'll wed again.
I mean no reproach; 'tis the way of men.
But I pray you think when some fairer face
Shines like a star from her wonted place,
That love will starve if it is not fed;
That true hearts pray for their daily bread.
Shines like a star from her wonted place,
That love will starve if it is not fed;
That true hearts pray for their daily bread.
| Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr | |