A rose’s crimson stain,
A rose’s stainless white,
Fitly become the immortal slain
Who fell in the great fight.
When Armistead died amid his foes,
Girt by the rebel cheer,
God plucked a soul like a white rose
In June time o’ the year.
The blood in Pickett’s heart
Was of a ruddier hue
Than...
We had been long in mountain snow,
In valleys bleak, and broad, and bare,
Where only moss and willows grow,
And no bird wings the silent air.
And so, when on our downward way
Wild roses met us, we were glad:
They were so girlish fair, so gay,
It seemed the sun had made them mad.
Soft on the sunset sky
Bright daylight closes,
Leaving, when light doth die,
Pale hues that mingling lie,—
Ashes of roses.
When love’s warm sun is set,
Love’s brightness closes;
Eyes with hot tears are wet,
In hearts there linger yet
Ashes of roses.
In each green leaf a memory let lie:
The pain that follows on the heels of bliss
In every thorn; each waft of incense be a sign
For love: each petal of each rose a kiss!
There was a rose-tree grew so high
And white with all its seven roses,
It seemed a cloud ’twixt earth and sky.
There was one rose among the seven
That grew alone on topmost bough,
Like a white star caught down from heaven.
I plucked it that it should not be
Deflowered by rainy, wild west winds
In all its white virginity.
1
o Flower of passion, rocked by balmy gales,
Flushed with life’s ecstasy,
Before whose golden glow the poppy pales
And yields her sovereignty!
Child of the ardent south, thy burning heart
Has felt the sun’s hot kiss.
Thy creamy petals falling half apart
Quiver with recent bliss.
For joy at thy...
Ye blushing virgins happy are
In the chaste nunnery of her breasts,
For he ’d profane so chaste a fair,
Who e’er should call them Cupid’s nests.
Transplanted thus how bright ye grow,
How rich a perfume do ye yield!
In some close garden cowslips so
Are sweeter than i’ th’ open field.
In those white cloisters live secure...
Soft on the sunset sky
Bright daylight closes,
Leaving, when light doth die,
Pale hues that mingling lie,—
Ashes of roses.
When love’s warm sun is set,
Love’s brightness closes;
Eyes with hot tears are wet,
In hearts there linger yet
Ashes of roses.
Roses ruddy and roses white,
What are the joys that my heart discloses?
Sitting alone in the fading light
Memories come to me here tonight
With the wonderful scent of the big red roses.
Memories come as the daylight fades
Down on the hearth where the firelight dozes;
Flicker and flutter...
When Roses cease to bloom, Sir,
And Violets are done —
When Bumblebees in solemn flight
Have passed beyond the Sun —
The hand that paused to gather
Upon this Summer's day
Will idle lie — in Auburn —
Then take my flowers — pray!
