 | Love-Songs |  |
37
BRUISED BLOSSOMS.
My love went—flinging from her mantle fast
Along the dusty and forsaken road
Strange flowers and fruits that bloomed and shone and glowed,
Re-lighting the pale tapers of the past,
Making the wilderness a temple vast;
And a sweet woman, slighter but as fair,
Went, gathering bruised blossoms in her hair,
And round about their stems her veil she cast.
Along the dusty and forsaken road
Strange flowers and fruits that bloomed and shone and glowed,
Re-lighting the pale tapers of the past,
Making the wilderness a temple vast;
And a sweet woman, slighter but as fair,
Went, gathering bruised blossoms in her hair,
And round about their stems her veil she cast.
And unto me she brought the flowers and fruits,
Weeping, and with soft pity in her eyes,
And laid her tender hand on severed roots;
And if a bud or any petal lies
Broken, she waileth—and the sundered shoots
To re-establish in green bloom she tries.
Weeping, and with soft pity in her eyes,
And laid her tender hand on severed roots;
And if a bud or any petal lies
Broken, she waileth—and the sundered shoots
To re-establish in green bloom she tries.
| Love-Songs | |