 | The poet, the fool and the faeries |  |
236
ROSE AND JASMINE
I
Roses, in the garden old,Glorious with ephemeral gold,
Blooming by the old stone-wall,
Did her touch give you your scent?—
(Ah, how well now I recall
Lincoln then was President)—
As, white-gowned, for mask or ball,
With her lover here she went.
From your fragrant breath, almost,
I could vow I see her ghost
Rise, as when she stood here sweet
Mid your blossoms: catch the beat
Of her happy heart and feet
As when here they came to meet,—
Lovers young, who now are cold,
Now are cold,
Roses in the garden old.
II
Jasmine, blooming overhead,Deep-embowering porch and shed,
Framing-in one windowsill,
Was it here on you she leant?—
(I remember with a thrill
237
And from her sad eyes and still
Did you learn that look? she sent
Through your blossoms, very far,
To the southmost seat of war.
Mid your branches, starry there,
I can see them now, I swear,
Filled with weeping and despair,
As when oft she leaned in prayer
For her lover, long since dead,
Long since dead,
Jasmine blooming overhead.
| The poet, the fool and the faeries | |