Volume Iii Part 42 (2/2)

Ah violet, ah rose, why not the two?

Why bloom not all fair flowers the whole year through?

Why not the two, young violet, ripe rose?

Why dies one sweetness when another blows?

Augusta Webster [1837-1894]

TO A WIND-FLOWER

Teach me the secret of thy loveliness, That, being made wise, I may aspire to be As beautiful in thought, and so express Immortal truths to earth's mortality; Though to my soul ability be less Than 'tis to thee, O sweet anemone.

Teach me the secret of thy innocence, That in simplicity I may grow wise, Asking from Art no other recompense Than the approval of her own just eyes; So may I rise to some fair eminence, Though less than thine, O cousin of the skies.

Teach me these things, through whose high knowledge, I,-- When Death hath poured oblivion through my veins, And brought me home, as all are brought, to lie In that vast house, common to serfs and thanes,-- I shall not die, I shall not utterly die, For beauty born of beauty--that remains.

Madison Cawein [1865-1914]

TO BLOSSOMS

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast?

Your date is not so past But you may stay yet here awhile To blush and gently smile, And go at last.

What! were ye born to be An hour or half's delight, And so to bid good-night?

'Twas pity Nature brought you forth Merely to show your worth And lose you quite.

But you are lovely leaves, where we May read how soon things have Their end, though ne'er so brave: And after they have shown their pride Like you awhile, they glide Into the grave.

Robert Herrick [1591-1674]

”TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER”

'Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone; No flower of her kindred, No rose-bud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!

To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them.

Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.

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