 | Poems and Sonnets |  |
137
ROSES FOR HER.
Roses for her! the dark green bays for him,To adorn the furrowed brows, the weary head,
Over which leaves of sorrow had been shed
As many as on the autumn breezes swim;
Lilies for her! for Dante wreathe a dim
Grey crown as for one risen from the dead,
Through every cell of purgatory led,
For whom hell's horror mantled to the brim;
For her the flowers of spring, for him the sere
And withered branches of the later days—
O Dante, great worn Dante, whom we praise,
By all the ages counted first and dear,
Be thine the flaming offerings of the year
Being ended, hers its softer opening sprays!
| Poems and Sonnets | |