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179
THE BALLAD OF A ROSE.
My folded flower last Summer grew
Sweetly in a glad Southern place;
Its heart was filled with peaceful dew,
The peaceful sunshine kiss'd its face.
Sweetly in a glad Southern place;
Its heart was filled with peaceful dew,
The peaceful sunshine kiss'd its face.
Beside the threshold of a cot
It knew familiar household ties,
The May's beloved forget-me-not
To maiden's lips and children's eyes.
It knew familiar household ties,
The May's beloved forget-me-not
To maiden's lips and children's eyes.
Bees climb'd about it; birds above
Sang in the flush'd year of the rose:
“Our new millennium of Love
Begins with every May it blows.”
Sang in the flush'd year of the rose:
“Our new millennium of Love
Begins with every May it blows.”
Warm cottage-windows murmur'd near
All music making home so sweet—
The mother's voice divinely dear,
The lisping tongues, the pattering feet.
All music making home so sweet—
The mother's voice divinely dear,
The lisping tongues, the pattering feet.
180
Ah, little rose, another tale
On your dumb lips has waited long
(Since then your tender lips grew pale)—
Speak, darling; make your speech my song!
On your dumb lips has waited long
(Since then your tender lips grew pale)—
Speak, darling; make your speech my song!
Another tale than cottage peace,
Than balmy quiet, hovering wings
Of humming-birds and honey-bees,
And Summer's breath of shining things.
Than balmy quiet, hovering wings
Of humming-birds and honey-bees,
And Summer's breath of shining things.
Ah, little rose, your lips are mute:
Could Fancy give them words to-day,
Such histories would but sadly suit
Those lips that knew but Love and May!
Could Fancy give them words to-day,
Such histories would but sadly suit
Those lips that knew but Love and May!
You woke, one Sabbath, warm and sweet:
The fields were bright with dewy glow;
The sun smiled o'er the springing wheat,
And spake, “Let all things lovelier grow!”
The fields were bright with dewy glow;
The sun smiled o'er the springing wheat,
And spake, “Let all things lovelier grow!”
What answer rock'd the awaken'd earth,
Strange echo to that voice divine!
Before the battle's awful birth
The earth and heaven gave no sign.
Strange echo to that voice divine!
Before the battle's awful birth
The earth and heaven gave no sign.
181
The cannon thunder'd every-where;
The bomb sprang howling from afar,
A coming earthquake born in air,
A wingéd hell, a bursting star!
The bomb sprang howling from afar,
A coming earthquake born in air,
A wingéd hell, a bursting star!
And lo! about the sacred spot
Where late the doves of home would 'light.
Men red with battle falter'd not
Though others lay with faces white.
Where late the doves of home would 'light.
Men red with battle falter'd not
Though others lay with faces white.
The lowly roof of Love, behold!
Is rent by shell and cannon-ball;
The rifles flame from casements old;
By bullets torn the roses fall!
Is rent by shell and cannon-ball;
The rifles flame from casements old;
By bullets torn the roses fall!
Under the rose-tree where you grew,
A soldier, dying, look'd and saw
Your face, that only Sabbath knew,
With Nature's love and Heaven's law.
A soldier, dying, look'd and saw
Your face, that only Sabbath knew,
With Nature's love and Heaven's law.
He heard with ebbing blood and breath,
At your sweet charm, the thunder cease,
And in that earthquake-hour of Death
The cannon jarr'd the bells of Peace.
At your sweet charm, the thunder cease,
And in that earthquake-hour of Death
The cannon jarr'd the bells of Peace.
182
For while he saw you, tender flower!
So peaceful in that troubled place,
A tenderer vision touch'd the hour
And left its halo on his face.
So peaceful in that troubled place,
A tenderer vision touch'd the hour
And left its halo on his face.
A captain pluck'd you, in the roar
Of battle, o'er his comrade slain,
And through the fight your beauty bore
Bloodless upon the bloody plain.
Of battle, o'er his comrade slain,
And through the fight your beauty bore
Bloodless upon the bloody plain.
Dear rose, within your folded leaves
I know what other memory lies;
I hear (or else my ear deceives)
Your wail of homesick longing rise
I know what other memory lies;
I hear (or else my ear deceives)
Your wail of homesick longing rise
“O happy Summer, lost to me!
O threshold, mine to guard no more!”
You yearn for visits of the bee
To rose's heart and cottage-door.
O threshold, mine to guard no more!”
You yearn for visits of the bee
To rose's heart and cottage-door.
Rest in my book, O precious flower!
And seem—a whitening face above—
The witness in the battle hour
Of Peace and Home, of God and Love!
And seem—a whitening face above—
The witness in the battle hour
Of Peace and Home, of God and Love!
1862.
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