 | Poems by William Wetmore Story |  |
244
THE GARDEN OF ROSES.
I walked in the garden of roses with thee,
In the garden where never again we shall be,
And thy ghost on the garden is all that I see,—
But thou comest never.
In the garden where never again we shall be,
And thy ghost on the garden is all that I see,—
But thou comest never.
The light of the morning, the glory that threw
O'er the roses and myrtles its mystical hue,
Is gone, with the glory of Love that we knew,
Forever and ever.
O'er the roses and myrtles its mystical hue,
Is gone, with the glory of Love that we knew,
Forever and ever.
No more in its shadows the nightingales trill—
The roses are ruined—the fountain is still—
And the fountain that leaped on the heart with a thrill
Is shattered forever.
The roses are ruined—the fountain is still—
And the fountain that leaped on the heart with a thrill
Is shattered forever.
Alone in the garden I cry in my pain,
“Oh! bloom again, roses—O Love, come again—
Come back, O beloved,” I cry—but in vain—
Ah never—no never.
“Oh! bloom again, roses—O Love, come again—
Come back, O beloved,” I cry—but in vain—
Ah never—no never.
A terrible shadow across it is thrown,
And I walk in that shadow, despairing—alone—
In that shadow of death and of sorrow I groan
“Ah never!”—forever.
And I walk in that shadow, despairing—alone—
In that shadow of death and of sorrow I groan
“Ah never!”—forever.
| Poems by William Wetmore Story | |