A Rose
’Twas a Jacqueminot rose
That she gave me at parting;
Sweetest flower that blows,
’Twas a Jacqueminot rose.
In the love garden close,
With the swift blushes starting,
’Twas a Jacqueminot rose
That she gave me at parting.
If she kissed it, who knows-
Since I will not discover,
And love is that close,
If she kissed it, who knows?
Or if not the red rose
Perhaps then the lover!
If she kissed it, who knows,
Since I will not discover.
Yet at least with the rose
Went a kiss that I’m wearing!
More I will not disclose,
Yet at least with the rose
Went whose kiss no one knows,-
Since I’m only declaring,
“Yet at least with the rose
Went a kiss that I’m wearing.”
Arlo Bates.
Wee Rose is but three,
Yet coquettes she already.
I can scarcely agree
Wee Rose is but three,
When her archness I see!
Are the sex born unsteady?-
Wee Rose is but three,
Yet coquettes she already.
Arlo Bates.
A pitcher of mignonette
In a tenement’s highest casement;
Queer sort of a flower-pot-yet
That pitcher of mignonette
Is a garden in heaven set
To the little sick child in the basement,-
The pitcher of mignonette
In the tenement’s highest casement.
H. C. Bunner.
In the light, in the shade,
This is time and life’s measure:
With a heart unafraid,
In the light, in the shade,
Hope is born and not made,
And the heart finds its treasure
In the light, in the shade;
This is time and life’s measure.
Walter Crane.