 | Leaves of life |  |
129
CHRISTMAS ROSES.
When all the skies with snow were gray,
And all the earth with snow was white,
I wandered down a still wood way,
And there I met my heart's delight
Slow moving through the silent wood,
The spirit of its solitude:
The brown birds and the lichened tree
Seemed less a part of it than she.
And all the earth with snow was white,
I wandered down a still wood way,
And there I met my heart's delight
Slow moving through the silent wood,
The spirit of its solitude:
The brown birds and the lichened tree
Seemed less a part of it than she.
Where pheasants' feet and rabbits' feet
Had marked the snow with traces small,
I saw the foot-prints of my sweet—
The sweetest woodland thing of all.
With Christmas roses in her hand,
One heart-beat's space I saw her stand,
And then I let her pass, and stood
Lone in an empty world of wood!
Had marked the snow with traces small,
I saw the foot-prints of my sweet—
The sweetest woodland thing of all.
With Christmas roses in her hand,
One heart-beat's space I saw her stand,
And then I let her pass, and stood
Lone in an empty world of wood!
130
And, though by that same path I've passed
Down that same woodland every day,
That meeting was the first and last,
And she is hopelessly away.
I wonder was she really there—
Her hands, and eyes, and lips, and hair?
Or was it but my dreaming sent
Her image down the way I went?
Down that same woodland every day,
That meeting was the first and last,
And she is hopelessly away.
I wonder was she really there—
Her hands, and eyes, and lips, and hair?
Or was it but my dreaming sent
Her image down the way I went?
Empty the woods are, where we met—
They will be empty in the spring;
The cowslip and the violet
Will die without her gathering.
But I dare dream one radiant day
Red rose-wreathed she will pass this way
Across the glad and honoured grass,
And then—I will not let her pass!
They will be empty in the spring;
The cowslip and the violet
Will die without her gathering.
But I dare dream one radiant day
Red rose-wreathed she will pass this way
Across the glad and honoured grass,
And then—I will not let her pass!
| Leaves of life | |