The Greater Joy
Not that young Joy who looked with laughing eyes,
That jocund sprite with open, idle fingers
Stretched to the dawn, the dawn whose gold light lingers
Across the far blue hills of Paradise.
Not that young Joy, but one courageous, calm,
Who—passed beyond the quiet morning meadows
Beyond the dawn of life’s delicious shadows—
Holds the great sun and moon in either palm.
In her wise heart she takes that little Joy,
Kisses to sleep tired eyes with laughter over,
Pointing to greater joys in heights above her—
This shall be ours whom fate would fain destroy.
IX
The Rose-Colored Camelia-Tree
Stained by the ardent silver of the stars,
Glitter the leaves, a challenge to the day—
The bright, fierce flame of naked scimitars
Holds still the argent night, folded away.
Challenging day, yet, lovelier than light,
Blushing with dawn the flick’ring leaves between,
Burn the rose blossoms, traitors to the night—
Color of joy upon the tranquil green.