Volume Ii Part 42 (1/2)

Yes, I will come when this wealth is over Of softened color and perfect tone-- The lilac's better than fields of clover; I'll come when blossoming May has flown.

When dust and dirt of a trampled city Have dragged the yellow laburnum down, I'll take my holiday--more's the pity-- And turn my back upon London town.

Margaret! am I so wrong to love it, This misty town that your face s.h.i.+nes through?

A crown of blossom is waved above it; But heart and life of the whirl--'tis you!

Margaret! pearl! I have sought and found you; And, though the paths of the wind are free, I'll follow the ways of the world around you, And build my nest on the nearest tree!

Clement Scott [1841-1904]

MY ROAD

There's a road to heaven, a road to h.e.l.l, A road for the sick and one for the well; There's a road for the false and a road for the true, But the road for me is the road to you.

There's a road through prairie and forest and glen, A road to each place in human ken; There's a road over earth and a road over sea, But the road to you is the road for me.

There's a road for animal, bird, and beast, A road for the greatest, a road for the least; There's a road that is old and a road that is new, But the road for me is the road to you.

There's a road for the heart and a road for the soul, There's a road for a part and a road for the whole; There's a road for love,--which few ever see,-- 'Tis the road to you and the road for me.

Oliver Opd.y.k.e [1878-

A WHITE ROSE

The red rose whispers of pa.s.sion, And the white rose breathes of love; Oh, the red rose is a falcon, And the white rose is a dove.

But I send you a cream white rosebud With a flush on its petal tips; For the love that is purest and sweetest Has a kiss of desire on the lips.

John Boyle O'Reilly [1844-1890]

”SOME DAY OF DAYS”

Some day, some day of days, threading the street With idle, heedless pace, Unlooking for such grace I shall behold your face!

Some day, some day of days, thus may we meet.

Perchance the sun may s.h.i.+ne from skies of May, Or winter's icy chill Touch whitely vale and hill.

What matter? I shall thrill Through every vein with summer on that day.

Once more life's perfect youth will all come back, And for a moment there I shall stand fresh and fair, And drop the garment care; Once more my perfect youth will nothing lack.

I shut my eyes now, thinking how 'twill be-- How face to face each soul Will slip its long control, Forget the dismal dole Of dreary Fate's dark, separating sea;