 | The silver bridge and other poems |  |
54
WINTER-KILLED.
Beneath the snow the roses sleep,
Below the wave the pearls lie deep—
Wedged in the rock-rift, centuries old,
Lie yellow veins of virgin gold;
Ice-locked within the forest nook,
Sleeps the bright spirit of the brook,
And under more than wintry fate
Or ocean's depths or boulder's weight,
Or fettering ice or frozen grass,
Dishonored love lies dead, alas!
Below the wave the pearls lie deep—
Wedged in the rock-rift, centuries old,
Lie yellow veins of virgin gold;
Ice-locked within the forest nook,
Sleeps the bright spirit of the brook,
And under more than wintry fate
Or ocean's depths or boulder's weight,
Or fettering ice or frozen grass,
Dishonored love lies dead, alas!
Yet spring shall wake the rose once more,
The diver bring the pearl to shore,
With sturdy toil the miner bold
Shall blast the rock and glean the gold;
And April set the brooklet free
To seek its waiting bride, the sea,—
But not spring's vivifying kiss,
Nor summer rain's persuasiveness,
Nor toil, nor search, nor patient pain,
Can bring dead love to life again!
The diver bring the pearl to shore,
With sturdy toil the miner bold
Shall blast the rock and glean the gold;
And April set the brooklet free
To seek its waiting bride, the sea,—
But not spring's vivifying kiss,
Nor summer rain's persuasiveness,
Nor toil, nor search, nor patient pain,
Can bring dead love to life again!
| The silver bridge and other poems | |