MY FAVORITE POEMS
Verses
On a green slope, most fragrant with the Spring,
One sweet, fair day I planted a red rose,
That grew, beneath my tender nourishing,
So tall, so riotous of bloom, that those
Who passed the little valley where it grew
Smiled at its beauty. All the air was sweet
About it! Still I tended it, and knew
That he would come, e'en as it grew complete.
And a day brought him! Up I led him, where
In the warm sun my rose bloomed gloriously—
Smiling and saying, Lo, is it not fair?
And all for thee—all thine! But he passed by
Coldly, and answered, Rose? I see no rose,—
Leaving me standing in the barren vale
Alone! alone! feeling the darkness close
Deep o'er my heart, and all my being fail.
Then came one, gently, yet with eager tread,
Begging one rose-bud—but my rose was dead.
Verses
The old, old Wind that whispers to old trees,
Round the dark country when the sun has set,
Goes murmuring still of unremembered seas
And cities of the dead that men forget—
An old blind beggar-man, distained and gray,
With ancient tales to tell,
Mumbling of this and that upon his way,
Strange song and muttered spell—
Neither to East or West, or South or North,
His habitation lies,
This roofless vagabond who wanders forth
Aye under alien skies—
A gypsy of the air, he comes and goes
Between the tall trees and the shadowed grass,
And what he tells only the twilight knows ...
The tall trees and the twilight hear him pass.