 | Poems by Elizabeth Akers (Florence Percy) |  |
171
WHERE THE ROSES GREW.
This is where the roses grew,
In the summer that is gone;
Fairer bloom or richer hue
Never summer shone upon:
O, the glories vanished hence!
O, the sad imperfect tense!
In the summer that is gone;
Fairer bloom or richer hue
Never summer shone upon:
O, the glories vanished hence!
O, the sad imperfect tense!
This is where the roses grew
When the July days were long,—
When the garden all day through
Echoed with delight and song;—
Hark! the dead and broken stalks
Eddying down the windy walks!
When the July days were long,—
When the garden all day through
Echoed with delight and song;—
Hark! the dead and broken stalks
Eddying down the windy walks!
Never was a desert waste,
Where no blossom-life is born,
Half so dreary and unblest,
Half so lonesome and forlorn,
Since in this we dimly see
All the bliss that used to be.
Where no blossom-life is born,
Half so dreary and unblest,
Half so lonesome and forlorn,
Since in this we dimly see
All the bliss that used to be.
Where the roses used to grow!
And the west-wind's wailing words
Tell in whispers faint and low
Of the famished humming-birds,—
Of the bees which search in vain
For the honey-cells again!
And the west-wind's wailing words
172
Of the famished humming-birds,—
Of the bees which search in vain
For the honey-cells again!
This is where the roses grew,
Till the ground was all perfume,
And, whenever zephyrs blew,
Carpeted with crimson bloom!
Now the chill and scentless air
Sweeps the flower-plats brown and bare.
Till the ground was all perfume,
And, whenever zephyrs blew,
Carpeted with crimson bloom!
Now the chill and scentless air
Sweeps the flower-plats brown and bare.
Hearts have gardens sad as this,
Where the roses bloom no more,—
Gardens where no summer-bliss
Can the summer-bloom restore,—
Where the snow melts not away
At the warming kiss of May;—
Where the roses bloom no more,—
Gardens where no summer-bliss
Can the summer-bloom restore,—
Where the snow melts not away
At the warming kiss of May;—
Gardens where the vernal morns
Never shed their sunshine down,—
Where are only stems and thorns,
Veiled in dead leaves, curled and brown,—
Gardens where we only see
Where the roses used to be!
Never shed their sunshine down,—
Where are only stems and thorns,
Veiled in dead leaves, curled and brown,—
Gardens where we only see
Where the roses used to be!
| Poems by Elizabeth Akers (Florence Percy) | |