University of Virginia Library


554

THE THREE SISTERS.

Here in the garden Rose rambles with me,
Here where the flowers are all blossoming free;
Modest white candytufts, flaunting sword lilies,
Low-growing pinks and sweet-scented stock-gillies;
Queen of them all is the rose—ah! the rose!
Fairest and rarest it bourgeons and blows.
Bearing before us their bright spikes of fire,
Salvias ask us to gaze and admire:
Here in our pathway the pansies are spreading
Purple and gold—a gay road to a wedding;
Over them all towers the rose—ah! the rose!
Fairest and rarest it bourgeons and blows.
Rose listens timidly here as I speak,
Eyelids low drooping, a flush on her cheek;
Flashes a moment the shyest of glances—
Glance that tells much while my soul it entraces;
Trembling, a rosebud she plucks—ah! the rose!
Fairest and rarest it bourgeons and blows.
Two of the sisters to meet us have come,
Both of them greet us, but Rose has grown dumb,
Lily, as always, is gracious and stately;
Pansy is curious, but stands there sedately;
Rose deeply blushes—ah! she is the rose
In my heart's garden that bourgeons and blows.