 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
LIFE'S ROSES.
When the morning first uncloses,
And before the mists are gone,
All the hills seem bright with roses,
Just a little farther on!
And before the mists are gone,
All the hills seem bright with roses,
Just a little farther on!
Roses red as wings of starlings,
And with diamond dew-drops wet;
“Wait,” says Patience, “wait, my darlings—
Wait a little longer yet!”
So, with eager, upturned faces,
Wait the children for the hours
That shall bring them to the places
Of the tantalizing flowers.
And with diamond dew-drops wet;
“Wait,” says Patience, “wait, my darlings—
Wait a little longer yet!”
So, with eager, upturned faces,
Wait the children for the hours
That shall bring them to the places
Of the tantalizing flowers.
Wild with wonder, sweet with guesses,
Vexed with only fleeting fears;
So the broader day advances,
And the twilight disappears.
Hands begin to clutch at posies,
Eyes to flash with new delight,
And the roses, oh! the roses,
Burning, blushing full in sight!
Vexed with only fleeting fears;
So the broader day advances,
And the twilight disappears.
Hands begin to clutch at posies,
Eyes to flash with new delight,
And the roses, oh! the roses,
Burning, blushing full in sight!
Now with bosoms softly beating,
Heart in heart, and hand in hand,
Youths and maids together meeting
Crowd the flowery harvest land.
Not a thought of rainy weather,
Nor of thorns to sting and grieve,
Gather, gather, gather, gather,
All the care is what to leave!
Heart in heart, and hand in hand,
Youths and maids together meeting
Crowd the flowery harvest land.
Not a thought of rainy weather,
Nor of thorns to sting and grieve,
Gather, gather, gather, gather,
All the care is what to leave!
Noon to afternoon advances,
Rosy red grows russet brown;
Sad eyes turn to backward glances,
So the sun of youth goes down.
And as rose by rose is withered,
Sober sight begins to find
Rosy red grows russet brown;
Sad eyes turn to backward glances,
So the sun of youth goes down.
And as rose by rose is withered,
Sober sight begins to find
Many a false heart has been gathered,
Many a true one left behind.
Hands are clasped with fainter holding,
Unfilled souls begin to sigh
For the golden, glad unfolding
Of the morn beyond the sky.
Many a true one left behind.
Hands are clasped with fainter holding,
Unfilled souls begin to sigh
For the golden, glad unfolding
Of the morn beyond the sky.
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |