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Teresa and Other Poems

By James Rhoades
  

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THE PRIMROSE AND THE ROCK
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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51

THE PRIMROSE AND THE ROCK

Primrose, to this bare rock
So closely clinging,
Fear'st thou the North's keen shock
And stormy singing?
Or is it love, not fear,
(Sweet flower, I knew it)
Holds thee heart-rooted here?—
Thou dost not rue it.
Cold though his flinty arms,
Boon warmth they yield thee:
E'en his uncouthness charms,
Serving to shield thee.
Far will the fancy range,
Love's balm to borrow;
As if a rock could change,
Or thou know sorrow!
Ah! should our fates agree,
Though widely parted—
Thy love all stone to be,
Mine, stony-hearted!