Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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THE RED ROSE AND BLUE. |
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 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
THE RED ROSE AND BLUE.
It was whiter than snow
When the Master went by—
Who would walk in His garden, and watched it below
With a loving and Fatherly eye;
And He fondled a Lily, or played with the bell
Of a Hyacinth bowing in grace,
While His footstep was life to the buds as it fell
And they gathered fresh light from His Face;
Ah, the Crocus looked up
With its yellowing cup,
And the Pansy bent timidly down—
For His wonderful thought filled its bosom with God
As beside it in rapture He tenderly trod,
And the Violet drew in its gown.
When the Master went by—
Who would walk in His garden, and watched it below
With a loving and Fatherly eye;
And He fondled a Lily, or played with the bell
Of a Hyacinth bowing in grace,
While His footstep was life to the buds as it fell
And they gathered fresh light from His Face;
333
With its yellowing cup,
And the Pansy bent timidly down—
For His wonderful thought filled its bosom with God
As beside it in rapture He tenderly trod,
And the Violet drew in its gown.
It was whiter than snow,
And yet pride entered in
At the joy of its gifts and the maidenly glow,
With a feeling that darkened like sin;
And it said to itself, “I am fairer than He
With a purity sweeter than morn,
For the White Rose is brightest of all that I see
And it has not one petulant thorn.”
But the Blue Roses wept,
As caressing He stept
By their borders, in reverent fears;
While they mused on the blessings no creature would crave,
Which He poured in the beauties He lavishly gave,
And they watered His path with their tears.
And yet pride entered in
At the joy of its gifts and the maidenly glow,
With a feeling that darkened like sin;
And it said to itself, “I am fairer than He
With a purity sweeter than morn,
For the White Rose is brightest of all that I see
And it has not one petulant thorn.”
But the Blue Roses wept,
As caressing He stept
By their borders, in reverent fears;
While they mused on the blessings no creature would crave,
Which He poured in the beauties He lavishly gave,
And they watered His path with their tears.
It was whiter than snow—
But the Master at last,
As He left His dear garden in fragrance to blow,
Just a look of reproach on it cast;
And there rushed through its veins a great passion of shame
At the wrong to His graciousness done,
And came blossoming forth in a glory of flame
With the thorns and the shadow at one.
So the White Rose turned Red,
And hung lowly its head
When again the good Father went by;
But He took the Blue Roses away in His love
To the carpet that covers the Eden above,
And He planted them out in the sky.
But the Master at last,
As He left His dear garden in fragrance to blow,
Just a look of reproach on it cast;
And there rushed through its veins a great passion of shame
At the wrong to His graciousness done,
And came blossoming forth in a glory of flame
With the thorns and the shadow at one.
So the White Rose turned Red,
And hung lowly its head
When again the good Father went by;
But He took the Blue Roses away in His love
To the carpet that covers the Eden above,
And He planted them out in the sky.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |