 | Poems by William Wetmore Story |  |
258
THE ROSE.
When Nature had shaped her rustic beauties,—
The bright-eyed daisy, the violet sweet,
The blushing poppy that nods and trembles
In its scarlet hood among the wheat,—
The bright-eyed daisy, the violet sweet,
The blushing poppy that nods and trembles
In its scarlet hood among the wheat,—
She paused and pondered;—and then she fashioned
The scentless camellia proud and cold,
The spicy carnation freaked with passion,
The lily pale for an angel to hold.
The scentless camellia proud and cold,
The spicy carnation freaked with passion,
The lily pale for an angel to hold.
All were fair, yet something was wanting,
Of freer perfection, of larger repose;
And again she paused,—then in one glad moment
She breathed her whole soul into the rose.
Of freer perfection, of larger repose;
And again she paused,—then in one glad moment
She breathed her whole soul into the rose.
With you, dear Violet, Daisy, and Poppy,
Pleasant it was in the fields to play,
In careless and heartless joy of childhood,
When an hour was as long as manhood's day.
Pleasant it was in the fields to play,
In careless and heartless joy of childhood,
When an hour was as long as manhood's day.
And with you, O passionate, bright Carnation,
A boy's brief love for a time I knew,
And you I admired, proud Lady Camellia,
And, Lily, I sang in the church with you.
A boy's brief love for a time I knew,
259
And, Lily, I sang in the church with you.
But O my Rose, my frank, free-hearted,
My perfect above all conscious arts,
What were they beside thee, O Rose, my darling!
To you I have given my heart of hearts.
My perfect above all conscious arts,
What were they beside thee, O Rose, my darling!
To you I have given my heart of hearts.
| Poems by William Wetmore Story | |