 | The woman who dared |  |
To --- ---.
Spring
saw my little venture just begun;
And then your hospitable message came,
Inviting me to taste the strawberries
At Strawberry Hill. I went. How long I stayed,
Urged by dear friends and the restoring breeze,
Let me not say; long enough to complete
My rhythmic structure; day by day it grew,
And all sweet influences helped its growth.
The lawn sloped green and ample till the trees
Met on its margin; and the Hudson's tide
Rolled beautiful beyond, where purple gleams
Fell on the Palisades or touched the hills
Of the opposing shore; for all without
Was but an emblem of the symmetry
I found within, where love held perfect sway,
With taste and beauty and domestic peace
For its allies.
And then your hospitable message came,
Inviting me to taste the strawberries
At Strawberry Hill. I went. How long I stayed,
Urged by dear friends and the restoring breeze,
Let me not say; long enough to complete
My rhythmic structure; day by day it grew,
And all sweet influences helped its growth.
The lawn sloped green and ample till the trees
Met on its margin; and the Hudson's tide
Rolled beautiful beyond, where purple gleams
Fell on the Palisades or touched the hills
Of the opposing shore; for all without
Was but an emblem of the symmetry
I found within, where love held perfect sway,
With taste and beauty and domestic peace
For its allies.
We do not praise the rose,
Since all who see it know it is the rose;
And so, dear lady, praise of thee would seem,
To all who know thee, quite superfluous.
But if from any of these thoughts be shed
Aught of the fragrance and the hue of truth,
To thee I dedicate the transient flower
In which the eternal beauty reappears;
Knowing, should poison mingle with the sweet,
Thou, like the eclectic bee, with instinct sure,
Wilt take the good alone, and leave the bad.
Since all who see it know it is the rose;
And so, dear lady, praise of thee would seem,
vi
But if from any of these thoughts be shed
Aught of the fragrance and the hue of truth,
To thee I dedicate the transient flower
In which the eternal beauty reappears;
Knowing, should poison mingle with the sweet,
Thou, like the eclectic bee, with instinct sure,
Wilt take the good alone, and leave the bad.
E. S.
| The woman who dared | |