 | English Roses |  |
44
GLADYS.
Gladys, tell me
What the secret is of joy,
When the shadows that repel me
Only are to you a toy;
How you find delight in fears
Which befel me,
And a sweet that cannot cloy
In the fountain of soft tears.
Cares, my trouble
Fain would double,
Are to you a source of blessing and the music of the years
Or a bubble.
What the secret is of joy,
When the shadows that repel me
Only are to you a toy;
How you find delight in fears
Which befel me,
And a sweet that cannot cloy
In the fountain of soft tears.
Cares, my trouble
Fain would double,
Are to you a source of blessing and the music of the years
Or a bubble.
Gladys, bid me
Share the sunshine of your lot,
Out of darkness that has hid me
From your brightness with its blot;
Let me gather, though your lip
Often chid me,
Fruits of beauty which may not
Now from my dull hearing slip.
Love, if blindly
And confin'dly,
Lifts to you a heart of homage and a hand of fellowship—
Treat them kindly.
Share the sunshine of your lot,
Out of darkness that has hid me
From your brightness with its blot;
Let me gather, though your lip
Often chid me,
Fruits of beauty which may not
Now from my dull hearing slip.
Love, if blindly
And confin'dly,
Lifts to you a heart of homage and a hand of fellowship—
Treat them kindly.
Gladys, take me
As I am, an empty thing,
To your bosom which will make me
Laugh and blossom out and sing;
Do not let me drift afar,
Nor forsake me
In the splendour of your Spring,
When the gates of heaven unbar.
Faith is flowing,
With the blowing
Of the flowers that break in lustre, like a sky of many a star
Earth-wise growing.
As I am, an empty thing,
To your bosom which will make me
Laugh and blossom out and sing;
Do not let me drift afar,
Nor forsake me
In the splendour of your Spring,
When the gates of heaven unbar.
Faith is flowing,
With the blowing
45
Earth-wise growing.
Gladys, hold me with the passion of your spell
Which has captured long and told me
Where the founts of glory dwell;
Keep me with your gossamer
Chains that fold me,
And the charms that fit me well
With the choice you still defer.
Life is nothing
But for lothing,
If love house it not and give it (though it be a prisoner)
Food and clothing.
Which has captured long and told me
Where the founts of glory dwell;
Keep me with your gossamer
Chains that fold me,
And the charms that fit me well
With the choice you still defer.
Life is nothing
But for lothing,
If love house it not and give it (though it be a prisoner)
Food and clothing.
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