 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
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THE LILY AND THE ROSE.
Fair and white and straight and stainless,
Up to kindred Heaven she grew,
Not through stages poor and painless,
Nursed by every storm that blew;
Every bitter blast a purer
Grace upon her person laid—
Wrought by travail pangs securer
Beauty, to a perfect maid;
Cold and heat and fierce affliction,
Bent beneath her patient will,
Turned to angel benediction,
Left the Lily whiter still.
Up to kindred Heaven she grew,
Not through stages poor and painless,
Nursed by every storm that blew;
Every bitter blast a purer
Grace upon her person laid—
Wrought by travail pangs securer
Beauty, to a perfect maid;
Cold and heat and fierce affliction,
Bent beneath her patient will,
Turned to angel benediction,
Left the Lily whiter still.
Fair and dark, a ruddy blossom
Dashed with showers and shadowy dust,
Baring an undaunted bosom
Freely to the wild wind's lust;
Set in guardian thorns, that cruel
Pierced the hand those charms would draw,
While they kept the glorious jewel
Safe with its own wanton law;
Change and chance, the crushed-out sweetness
Gained from every grinding ill,
Even its scars and incompleteness,
Made the Rose more lovely still.
Dashed with showers and shadowy dust,
Baring an undaunted bosom
Freely to the wild wind's lust;
Set in guardian thorns, that cruel
Pierced the hand those charms would draw,
While they kept the glorious jewel
Safe with its own wanton law;
Change and chance, the crushed-out sweetness
Gained from every grinding ill,
Even its scars and incompleteness,
Made the Rose more lovely still.
Fairer, whiter yet, and sainted
For Pantheons of the pure,
High above all sin, untainted
By the most enticing lure;
With her heart in Heaven, and living
In its light, that laid on all
Glory it could not help giving,
Calm as sanctuary wall;
Power despised, and goodly treasure
Gathered from the mine or mill
Spurned, and each resisted pleasure,
Left the Lily farther still.
For Pantheons of the pure,
High above all sin, untainted
By the most enticing lure;
With her heart in Heaven, and living
In its light, that laid on all
Glory it could not help giving,
Calm as sanctuary wall;
Power despised, and goodly treasure
Gathered from the mine or mill
Spurned, and each resisted pleasure,
Left the Lily farther still.
Fairer, darker yet, in clouding
Of rude contact with the clay
Common to us all, the shrouding
Shed from breaking of the day;
Oh, she hourly shoots expanded
Fresh to kisses of the sun,
And the tempest she commanded,
Who its shaking did not shun;
Thus communion with the sinner's
Cares, the market and the till,
Grief of losers, joy of winners,
Made the red Rose nearer still.
Of rude contact with the clay
Common to us all, the shrouding
Shed from breaking of the day;
Oh, she hourly shoots expanded
Fresh to kisses of the sun,
And the tempest she commanded,
Who its shaking did not shun;
Thus communion with the sinner's
Cares, the market and the till,
Grief of losers, joy of winners,
Made the red Rose nearer still.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |