[Poems by Woolson in] Five generations (1785-1923) being scattered chapters from the history of the Cooper, Pomeroy, Woolson and Benedict families, with extracts From their Letters and Journals, as well as articles and poems by Constance Fenimore Woolson |
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YELLOW JESSAMINE. |
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 | [Poems by Woolson in] Five generations (1785-1923) |  |
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YELLOW JESSAMINE.
In tangled wreaths, in clustered gleaming stars,
In floating, curling sprays,
The golden flower comes shining through the woods
These February days;
Forth go all hearts, all hands, from out the town,
To bring her gayly in,
This wild, sweet Princess of fair Florida—
The yellow jessamine.
In floating, curling sprays,
The golden flower comes shining through the woods
These February days;
Forth go all hearts, all hands, from out the town,
To bring her gayly in,
This wild, sweet Princess of fair Florida—
The yellow jessamine.
The live-oaks smile to see her lovely face
Peep from the thickets; shy,
She hides behind the leaves her golden buds
Till, bolder grown, on high
She curls a tendril, throws a spray, then springs
Herself aloft in glee,
And, bursting into thousand blossoms, swings
In wreaths from tree to tree.
Peep from the thickets; shy,
She hides behind the leaves her golden buds
Till, bolder grown, on high
She curls a tendril, throws a spray, then springs
Herself aloft in glee,
And, bursting into thousand blossoms, swings
In wreaths from tree to tree.
The dwarf-palmetto on his knees adores
This Princess of the air;
The lone pine-barren stands afar and sighs,
“Ah! Come, lest I despair;”
The myrtle-thickets and ill-tempered thorns
Quiver and thrill within,
As through their leaves they feel the dainty touch
Of yellow jessamine.
This Princess of the air;
The lone pine-barren stands afar and sighs,
“Ah! Come, lest I despair;”
The myrtle-thickets and ill-tempered thorns
Quiver and thrill within,
As through their leaves they feel the dainty touch
Of yellow jessamine.
The garden roses wonder as they see
The wreaths of golden bloom
Brought in from the far woods with eager haste
To deck the poorest room,
The rich man's house, alike; the loaded hands
Give sprays to all they meet,
Till, gay with flowers, the people come and go,
And all the air is sweet.
The wreaths of golden bloom
Brought in from the far woods with eager haste
To deck the poorest room,
The rich man's house, alike; the loaded hands
Give sprays to all they meet,
Till, gay with flowers, the people come and go,
And all the air is sweet.
The Southern land, well weary of its green
Which may not fall nor fade,
Bestirs itself to greet the lovely flower
With leaves of fresher shade;
The pine has tassels, and the orange-trees
Their fragrant work begin—
The spring has come—has come to Florida
With yellow jessamine.
Which may not fall nor fade,
Bestirs itself to greet the lovely flower
With leaves of fresher shade;
The pine has tassels, and the orange-trees
Their fragrant work begin—
The spring has come—has come to Florida
With yellow jessamine.
| [Poems by Woolson in] Five generations (1785-1923) | |