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 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
XXV—A BIRTHDAY SONG
I thought this day to bring to thee
A flower that grows on the red rose tree.
I searched the branches—O, despair!
Of roses every branch was bare.
A flower that grows on the red rose tree.
I searched the branches—O, despair!
Of roses every branch was bare.
I thought to sing thee a birthday song
As wild as my love, as deep and strong.
The song took wing like a frightened bird,
And its music my maiden never heard.
As wild as my love, as deep and strong.
The song took wing like a frightened bird,
And its music my maiden never heard.
But, Love, the flower and the song divine
One day of the year will yet be thine;
And thou shalt be glad when the rose I bring,
And weep for joy at the song I sing.
One day of the year will yet be thine;
And thou shalt be glad when the rose I bring,
And weep for joy at the song I sing.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |