 | The Poems of Selwyn Image |  |
37
LA ROSE DU BAL
This poor flower of the rose;
All its pride, its fashion, spent;
Shrivelled up; bereft of scent;
Once such sweetness could unclose!
All its pride, its fashion, spent;
Shrivelled up; bereft of scent;
Once such sweetness could unclose!
This sad blossom, that hath lain,
For an hour or so of grace,
'Twixt her bosom and her face!
Dare we treat it with disdain?
For an hour or so of grace,
'Twixt her bosom and her face!
Dare we treat it with disdain?
Dainty was its shell-like hue,
As her shell-like ears, I vow.
Dainty texture, tincture, now
Vainly for your grace we sue!
As her shell-like ears, I vow.
Dainty texture, tincture, now
Vainly for your grace we sue!
Think of all, that Nature wrought,
Studious of this pretty flower;
Prodigal of sun and shower;
Careless, though its end be naught:
Studious of this pretty flower;
Prodigal of sun and shower;
Careless, though its end be naught:
Careful only it should grow
Into worthiness to deck,
Fair itself, a fairer neck;
Flourish there an hour, and go.
Into worthiness to deck,
Fair itself, a fairer neck;
Flourish there an hour, and go.
Dropped amid the dancing feet!
Saved to turn a verse like this!
Lay it gently, with a kiss,
'Mid the fire's absorbing heart:
Saved to turn a verse like this!
Lay it gently, with a kiss,
'Mid the fire's absorbing heart:
Into elemental dust
Watch it purely burn away.
Julia, when we've had our day,
Chastely so we'll pass, I trust!
Watch it purely burn away.
Julia, when we've had our day,
Chastely so we'll pass, I trust!
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