WILD ROSES BY THE SEA.
Untrimmed, uncared for, filling all the ways
That stretch between the shadow of the pine
And sea-washed rock where in the soft sunshine
The sea breaks white through all the long June days,
The fair wild roses, flushed like Eastern skies
When sinks the sun to rest in radiance calm,
Their pink bloom lift amid the sweet-bay’s balm
And shine a welcome true to loving eyes.
Sweet June’s rich gladness in the rosy flush,
As if rejoicing with our human souls,
While solemn melody from wave-beat rolls,
Whose endless anthem knows not any hush:
And ever answering from the pines sweep down
The wailing chords the wandering wind doth wake—
Sad undertones that through June’s singing break,
But cannot dim her roses’ radiant crown,
Beyond whose jewelled zone spreads on and on
The long, low level of the endless sea,
Blue with the shadow of infinity
From cloudless skies, in sparkling light, dropped down;
With here and there a sail, in shade and light,
Wind-seeking, bearing careless o’er the crest
Of summer waves the whiteness of its breast—
A moment’s dazzling vision on our sight:
Earth, air, and sea, with mirth unsullied filled,
With happy sunshine from June’s roses flushed.
We hold our rose-leaves all to-day uncrushed,
Our cup of spring-time joyousness unspilled.
But spring-time passes, rosy petals all
Drop down and mingle with earth’s earlier dead,
Though faithful sweet-bay still breathes balm o’erhead,
And ocean’s anthem e’er doth rise and fall.
Almost unfelt the summer hours die,
Green leaves grow russet on the salty shore,
The crimson vines droop rocky crevice o’er,
And wild ducks’ marshalled columns southward fly.
Low asters gleam with delicate light amid
The massive sunshine of the golden-rod;
A stray Houstonia shines above the sod
And lifts to gold-spun skies its pale blue lid.
The autumn’s glory lavishly is spread,
But summer dieth, loving sung to sleep
By western wind and murmur of the deep,
The softened sunshine on her gently shed.
Where are our roses?—that rare gift of June
That filled to perfectness our human life,
That hushed with silent touch all earthly strife,
That voiceless sang to keep our hearts in tune.
Lo! crowning each rich, sun-browned stem
Where once its rose the summer’s sunrise flushed,
Where shone our coronal of joy, now crushed,
Stands, round and firm, a deeper-tinted gem.
Rich summer faileth, and true-hearted June,
For whom birds sang, and perfect blessedness
Filled every grass-blade with a sense of bliss,
Tells o’er her beads for one to die so soon.
Her rosary strung around the rose-crowned shore,
Our pure June gladness, gathered into prayers,
The sweet-bay’s incense ever upward bears,
While we, 'mid loss, seem richer than before!