 | English Roses |  |
CHARACTER.
Mix in bath of burning tears
Iron front and glorious fears,
With the splendour of the tender
Buds from green enfranchised years;
Steep them greatly, steep them long
In the perfume of all song,
Circled deep with visioned sleep
And a deathless hate of wrong.
Take the passion of the storm
And its fulness white and warm,
For the shaking and the making
Of the man to perfect form.
Iron front and glorious fears,
With the splendour of the tender
Buds from green enfranchised years;
Steep them greatly, steep them long
In the perfume of all song,
Circled deep with visioned sleep
And a deathless hate of wrong.
Take the passion of the storm
And its fulness white and warm,
For the shaking and the making
Of the man to perfect form.
Grit of granite, maiden bloom
From the lily's magic loom
Seize, and mingle in a single
Strength that rises over doom;
Blend the secret love, that saith
Peace, with victory of faith
Giving flesh and blood afresh
To the creed's departing wraith;
Let some note of native mire
Mate with robe of regal tire,
For the draping and the shaping
Of the spirit in the fire.
From the lily's magic loom
Seize, and mingle in a single
Strength that rises over doom;
Blend the secret love, that saith
Peace, with victory of faith
Giving flesh and blood afresh
To the creed's departing wraith;
Let some note of native mire
Mate with robe of regal tire,
For the draping and the shaping
Of the spirit in the fire.
Link, with shadow and the sheen,
Lights of land and ocean seen
Through the vista of genista
Avenues of gold and green;
Weave the vastness of the sky
And the wings that upward fly,
With the sweet of kisses fleet
And the soul of purity;
Plunge the whole in purple air
Of wide spaces free and fair,
Down the roaring surge, up soaring
Steps that build God's altar stair.
354
Through the vista of genista
Avenues of gold and green;
Weave the vastness of the sky
And the wings that upward fly,
With the sweet of kisses fleet
And the soul of purity;
Plunge the whole in purple air
Of wide spaces free and fair,
Down the roaring surge, up soaring
Steps that build God's altar stair.
Match with loneness of the mount
And the laugh of silver fount,
Breast of woman, care for human
Things whatever be the count;
Join to gentlest touch of hand
Grip of more than brazen band,
Wed the dew of promise new
With the custom of command;
Round the picture with the frame
Of the high and holy Name,
While you borrow bliss of sorrow
And from flowers their heart of flame.
And the laugh of silver fount,
Breast of woman, care for human
Things whatever be the count;
Join to gentlest touch of hand
Grip of more than brazen band,
Wed the dew of promise new
With the custom of command;
Round the picture with the frame
Of the high and holy Name,
While you borrow bliss of sorrow
And from flowers their heart of flame.
| English Roses | |