 | My Lyrical Life |  |
THE TWO ROSES.
Softly stepped she over the lawn,
In vesture light and free;
A floating Angel might have drawn
Her hair from heaven in a glory-dawn,
And her voice rang silverly.
Then up she rose on her tiny tip-toes,
Her white hand catches, her fingers close:
“You are tall and proud, my dainty Rose;
But I have you now,” said She.
In vesture light and free;
A floating Angel might have drawn
Her hair from heaven in a glory-dawn,
And her voice rang silverly.
Then up she rose on her tiny tip-toes,
Her white hand catches, her fingers close:
“You are tall and proud, my dainty Rose;
But I have you now,” said She.
O so lightly over the lawn,
Step for step went he!
Thinking how, from his hiding-place,
The war of Roses in her face,
Dear Love would laugh to see!
Two arms suddenly round her he throws,
Two mouths, turning oneward, close;
“You are tall and proud, my dainty Rose!
But I have you now,” said He.
Step for step went he!
Thinking how, from his hiding-place,
The war of Roses in her face,
Dear Love would laugh to see!
Two arms suddenly round her he throws,
Two mouths, turning oneward, close;
“You are tall and proud, my dainty Rose!
But I have you now,” said He.
| My Lyrical Life | |