The hours of the passion and other poems by Harriet Eleanor Hamilton-King |
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A ROSEBUD WHITE IN PARADISE |
 | The hours of the passion and other poems |  |
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A ROSEBUD WHITE IN PARADISE
In the midmost Bower of Paradise
A bud the Mother nursed;
A bud that should have been a Rose,
But the frost had seized it first;
And she waited long and wistfully
For the blossom-sheath to burst.
A bud the Mother nursed;
A bud that should have been a Rose,
But the frost had seized it first;
And she waited long and wistfully
For the blossom-sheath to burst.
But the Bridegroom spake without the door,
The door of the Maiden Bower:
‘O My Mother, have I not waited long,
And been patient many an hour?
And dost thou still delay Me,
And keep from Me My flower?’
The door of the Maiden Bower:
‘O My Mother, have I not waited long,
And been patient many an hour?
And dost thou still delay Me,
And keep from Me My flower?’
‘But oh! My Son,’ the Mother said,
‘This one has greatly dared;
And steep and awful were the paths,
And long was the way she fared;
And never another pilgrim
His cup with her has shared.
‘This one has greatly dared;
And steep and awful were the paths,
And long was the way she fared;
And never another pilgrim
His cup with her has shared.
Can one pass to the bride-chamber
Straight from the Cross away?
First in my Bower to rest a while
The travelled Bride must stay;
And feel the warmth of mother-hands,
To bathe and to array.
Straight from the Cross away?
First in my Bower to rest a while
The travelled Bride must stay;
And feel the warmth of mother-hands,
To bathe and to array.
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It needeth the dews of Paradise
The weary feet to steep;
It needeth the balms of Paradise,
For the wounds were sore and deep;
And the breeze that blows over Paradise
With lulling sound of sleep.’
The weary feet to steep;
It needeth the balms of Paradise,
For the wounds were sore and deep;
And the breeze that blows over Paradise
With lulling sound of sleep.’
And the winds of heaven blew soft and south,
Till a sweet sleep slowly stole;
And the deep deep dews of the garden of God
Washed over the white soul;
And the dropping tears of balsam trees
The bruisèd flower made whole.
Till a sweet sleep slowly stole;
And the deep deep dews of the garden of God
Washed over the white soul;
And the dropping tears of balsam trees
The bruisèd flower made whole.
And ever and ever unfolded
The rosebud on her knee;
And ever fuller and fuller
To a White Rose perfectly;
A Queen of Roses in fragrance,
And in virginity.
The rosebud on her knee;
And ever fuller and fuller
To a White Rose perfectly;
A Queen of Roses in fragrance,
And in virginity.
And listening for a sound within,
Again the Bridegroom spake:
‘Has she not come from far to Me,
And suffered for My sake?
And now, it is My hour at last:—
When will My Bride awake?’
Again the Bridegroom spake:
‘Has she not come from far to Me,
And suffered for My sake?
And now, it is My hour at last:—
When will My Bride awake?’
Her voice was low, and full of tears:—
‘So late from Calvary!—
I have these long life-hurts to heal,
Remembering Thee and me:
Some come to me like sleeping babes;
—But this was like to Thee.
‘So late from Calvary!—
I have these long life-hurts to heal,
Remembering Thee and me:
Some come to me like sleeping babes;
—But this was like to Thee.
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Oh, thirsting through the wilderness,
This one went long and long;
And sought Thy face, and found it not;
And still, for Love's sake strong,
Rejected, bore Thy Cross for Thee,
Patient through all Thy wrong.’
This one went long and long;
And sought Thy face, and found it not;
And still, for Love's sake strong,
Rejected, bore Thy Cross for Thee,
Patient through all Thy wrong.’
But the Bridegroom's voice was passionate:—
‘Mother, deny Me not!
I too, unseen, through the passes went,
While the scorching noon was hot;
I was watching too through winter nights
My Rose without a spot!’
‘Mother, deny Me not!
I too, unseen, through the passes went,
While the scorching noon was hot;
I was watching too through winter nights
My Rose without a spot!’
The Mother rose, and stepped across,
And did the door unclose;
She smiled serenely on her Son,
The smile He only knows;
She gave into the Bridegroom's hand
The Rose, the bridal Rose.
And did the door unclose;
She smiled serenely on her Son,
The smile He only knows;
She gave into the Bridegroom's hand
The Rose, the bridal Rose.
The Bridegroom held it tenderly,
His Rose so white and wan;
And as He gazed on it the tears
Down the face of the Bridegroom ran,
The Bridegroom's face, that was fairer
Than any face of Man.
His Rose so white and wan;
And as He gazed on it the tears
Down the face of the Bridegroom ran,
The Bridegroom's face, that was fairer
Than any face of Man.
The Bridegroom laid it on His breast;
And in a swift surprise,
Trembled the pale white Rose, and flushed
With colour of sunrise,
And deepened to the heart of hearts,
Rose-red of Paradise.
And in a swift surprise,
Trembled the pale white Rose, and flushed
With colour of sunrise,
And deepened to the heart of hearts,
Rose-red of Paradise.
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The heavens dissolved in music,
And the music in a mist;
The Secret of that crimson cloud
Nor Saint nor Seraph wist:
For none beheld the Bridegroom's face,
As the red Rose he kissed.
And the music in a mist;
The Secret of that crimson cloud
Nor Saint nor Seraph wist:
For none beheld the Bridegroom's face,
As the red Rose he kissed.
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