 | Louise de la Valliaere and other poems |  |
75
AN ANSWER.
I said, “The year hath nothing left to bring,”
And wearied of the grey November skies,
For that I mourned for dead and vanished spring,
And rose-lit summer's flowery argosies;
For that I yearned for golden primrose days,
For tender skies, for thrush's passionate strain,
To hear again, 'mid leafy springtide ways,
The sweet small footsteps of the silvern rain.
And wearied of the grey November skies,
For that I mourned for dead and vanished spring,
And rose-lit summer's flowery argosies;
For that I yearned for golden primrose days,
For tender skies, for thrush's passionate strain,
To hear again, 'mid leafy springtide ways,
The sweet small footsteps of the silvern rain.
I said, “The glory of the year is gone,
The very sunlight hath a tinge forlorn,
The spectral trees loom, desolate and wan,
Of their late regal robes bereft and shorn.
Where the white lilies plumed their radiant heads,
And the geranium flashed—a scarlet flame—
Stretch now all brown and bare the garden beds,
Dead are all fair sweet things since winter came.”
The very sunlight hath a tinge forlorn,
The spectral trees loom, desolate and wan,
Of their late regal robes bereft and shorn.
Where the white lilies plumed their radiant heads,
And the geranium flashed—a scarlet flame—
Stretch now all brown and bare the garden beds,
Dead are all fair sweet things since winter came.”
76
And as I spake, lo! in the glimmering West
A paly streak of stormy sunset gold,
And near me, in all beauteous colours drest
The gentle flower that fears nor frost nor cold,
The brave chrysanthemum; there, to my heart,
Said I, with joy, “Though 'tis not always May,
The bounteous mother tires not of her part,
Her strong white hands bear gifts for every day.”
A paly streak of stormy sunset gold,
And near me, in all beauteous colours drest
The gentle flower that fears nor frost nor cold,
The brave chrysanthemum; there, to my heart,
Said I, with joy, “Though 'tis not always May,
The bounteous mother tires not of her part,
Her strong white hands bear gifts for every day.”
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