The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves ... Second Edition |
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THE ROSE-TREE IN FULL BEARING |
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 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
THE ROSE-TREE IN FULL BEARING
O rose-tree in full bearing,
When rude storms had stripped the bowers,
How oft, with thee despairing,
I've sighed through the long dark hours!
Till Spring, so hard of wooing,
Hope's own green spell upon thee cast,
And Kate, her coldness rueing,
With sweet pity turned at last.
When rude storms had stripped the bowers,
How oft, with thee despairing,
I've sighed through the long dark hours!
Till Spring, so hard of wooing,
Hope's own green spell upon thee cast,
And Kate, her coldness rueing,
With sweet pity turned at last.
Then April smiled to cheer us,
Or mocked grief with golden rain,
While Kate drew laughing near us,
Or frowned past with dear disdain;
'Till, was it yester even?—
Beneath thy faint red flowers divine,
With Love's one star in heaven,
Her lips leant at last to mine!
Or mocked grief with golden rain,
While Kate drew laughing near us,
Or frowned past with dear disdain;
'Till, was it yester even?—
Beneath thy faint red flowers divine,
With Love's one star in heaven,
Her lips leant at last to mine!
And when I fondly told her,
O Rose, all our stormy grief;
And how my hope grew bolder
With thy every opening leaf;
She answered, “For so sharing,
Dear heart, Love's weary winter hour,
The Rose-tree in full bearing
Shall build us our summer bower.”
O Rose, all our stormy grief;
And how my hope grew bolder
With thy every opening leaf;
She answered, “For so sharing,
Dear heart, Love's weary winter hour,
The Rose-tree in full bearing
Shall build us our summer bower.”
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |