 | English Roses |  |
GREEN AND GOLD.
Finis Coronat Opus.
Green and golden,
Maiden, with the magic eyes,
Like a picturè of the past
Stepping down to us from olden
Years and fairy fantasies—
Vanished, but recalled at last!
Wilt thou listen
To a tale repeated oft,
Ever ancient, ever new;
While the first stars faintly glisten,
As in gardens hung aloft
Little lamps of diamond dew?
Maiden, with the magic eyes,
Like a picturè of the past
Stepping down to us from olden
Years and fairy fantasies—
Vanished, but recalled at last!
Wilt thou listen
To a tale repeated oft,
Ever ancient, ever new;
While the first stars faintly glisten,
As in gardens hung aloft
Little lamps of diamond dew?
“How can winter
Hope to wed with verdant May,
And the frost embrace the fire?”
Ah, and like an icy splinter
Falls the answer though in play,
If it only whets desire.
Yet the snowy
Freshness of a northern wind,
When the lands are sweltering heat,
Better is than all the showy
Sunshine with its airs of Ind—
It renews the roses' seat.
Hope to wed with verdant May,
And the frost embrace the fire?”
Ah, and like an icy splinter
Falls the answer though in play,
If it only whets desire.
Yet the snowy
Freshness of a northern wind,
When the lands are sweltering heat,
Better is than all the showy
Sunshine with its airs of Ind—
It renews the roses' seat.
Yea, the foreland
Bleak and bitter on its tower
Meeting all the blasts that blow,
Still protects the timid shoreland;
Sheltering the shadowed flower,
And the tender life below.
Yea, the iron
Ribs of rock like hungry arms
And without one spot of green,
Still in marriage bonds environ
Shy and shrinking virgin charms
From rude ills, and rise between.
Bleak and bitter on its tower
54
Still protects the timid shoreland;
Sheltering the shadowed flower,
And the tender life below.
Yea, the iron
Ribs of rock like hungry arms
And without one spot of green,
Still in marriage bonds environ
Shy and shrinking virgin charms
From rude ills, and rise between.
Green and golden,
Maiden, with the mystic look
And a heart my bosom's mate;
Is not youth indeed beholden
Unto age's story book,
In the wise decrees of fate?
There is twining
For thy weakness in my strength,
Which will hold thee surely up;
And my clouds shall put on shining
From thy dazzling dawn, at length—
With the crowning of the cup.
Maiden, with the mystic look
And a heart my bosom's mate;
Is not youth indeed beholden
Unto age's story book,
In the wise decrees of fate?
There is twining
For thy weakness in my strength,
Which will hold thee surely up;
And my clouds shall put on shining
From thy dazzling dawn, at length—
With the crowning of the cup.
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