 | Poems of "Frank Forester" (Henry William Herbert) |  |
56
THE MAGNOLIA.—II.
Ours is no native bud, nor cultured gem,
Nor in the forest glade,
Brief offspring of some frail deciduous stem,
Was ever meant to fade;
Nor in the forest glade,
Brief offspring of some frail deciduous stem,
Was ever meant to fade;
Nor waits the genial call of peeping morn
To ope its modest eye;
Nursed not by zephyr, nor of summer born,
To bourgeon and to die.
To ope its modest eye;
Nursed not by zephyr, nor of summer born,
To bourgeon and to die.
It shall not perish by the nipping cold
When skies are drear and dun;
Nor tremble at the tempest's summons bold,
Nor droop i' the noonday sun.
When skies are drear and dun;
Nor tremble at the tempest's summons bold,
Nor droop i' the noonday sun.
Only it dreads the blight of bitter tongue,
And critic's censure rude—
Forever prompt, since Theban Pindar sung,
To blast the bright and good.
And critic's censure rude—
Forever prompt, since Theban Pindar sung,
To blast the bright and good.
Oh guard it, ye who do the muse revere,
This fragrant thing and frail;
Nor suffer it unwept to wither here,
Pinched by cold envy's gale.
This fragrant thing and frail;
Nor suffer it unwept to wither here,
Pinched by cold envy's gale.
So, in young dalliance with the balmy May,
When early flowerets bloom,
Fairest and first its leaflets shall display
Their rich and rare perfume.
When early flowerets bloom,
Fairest and first its leaflets shall display
Their rich and rare perfume.
57
So, in the glare of August's fiercest glow,
When every grove is hush,
It still shall boast its cup of stainless snow
Without or blame or blush;
When every grove is hush,
It still shall boast its cup of stainless snow
Without or blame or blush;
And when December storms are raving shrill,
Its deathless prime shall wave,
Though all beside are marred by frost-wind's chill,
O'er nature's annual grave;
Its deathless prime shall wave,
Though all beside are marred by frost-wind's chill,
O'er nature's annual grave;
So shall it live, nor ever fear to die,
Spite wind and winter's rages,
Nearer each season to its parent sky,
A phœnix flower of ages.
Spite wind and winter's rages,
Nearer each season to its parent sky,
A phœnix flower of ages.
| Poems of "Frank Forester" (Henry William Herbert) | |