The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan In Two Volumes. With a Portrait |
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The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | ||
IX. Roses.
‘Sad, and sweet, and wise,
Here a child reposes,
Dust is on his eyes,
Quietly he lies,—
Satan, strew Roses!’
Here a child reposes,
Dust is on his eyes,
Quietly he lies,—
Satan, strew Roses!’
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Weeping low, creeping slow,
Came the Weary-wingëd!
Roses red over the dead
Quietly he flingëd.
Came the Weary-wingëd!
Roses red over the dead
Quietly he flingëd.
‘I am old,’ he thought,
‘And the world's day closes;
Pale and fever-fraught,
Sadly have I brought
These blood-red Roses.’
‘And the world's day closes;
Pale and fever-fraught,
Sadly have I brought
These blood-red Roses.’
By his side the mother came
Shudderingly creeping;
The Devil's and the woman's heart
Bitterly were weeping.
Shudderingly creeping;
The Devil's and the woman's heart
Bitterly were weeping.
‘Swift he came and swift he flew,
Hopeless he reposes;
Waiting on is weary too,—
Wherefore on his grave we strew
Bitter, withering Roses.’
Hopeless he reposes;
Waiting on is weary too,—
Wherefore on his grave we strew
Bitter, withering Roses.’
The Devil gripped the woman's heart,
With gall he staunched its bleeding;
Far away, beyond the day,
The Lord heard interceding.
With gall he staunched its bleeding;
Far away, beyond the day,
The Lord heard interceding.
‘Lord God, One in Three!
Sure Thy anger closes;
Yesterday I died, and see
The Weary-wingëd over me
Bitterly streweth Roses.’
Sure Thy anger closes;
Yesterday I died, and see
The Weary-wingëd over me
Bitterly streweth Roses.’
The voice cried out, ‘Rejoice! rejoice!
There shall be sleep for evil!’
And all the sweetness of God's voice
Passed strangely through the Devil.
There shall be sleep for evil!’
And all the sweetness of God's voice
Passed strangely through the Devil.
The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | ||