THE KING’S ROSEBUD
Only a blushing rosebud, folding up Such wealth of sweetness in its dewy cup That the whole air was like rare incense flung From golden censers round high altars swung! One day the king passed by with stately tread, And, reaching forth his hand, he lightly said, “All sweets are mine; therefore this rose I take, And wear it in my bosom for Love’s sake.” Then, while the king passed on with smiling face, The sweet rose gloried in its pride of place.
But ah! the deeds that in Love’s name are done! The woeful wrack wrought underneath the sun! Still with that smile upon his lip, the king Laid his rash hand upon the beauteous thing; In hot haste tore the crimson leaves apart, And drained the sweetness from its glowing heart; Seared the soft petals with its fiery breath, Then tossed it from him to ignoble death! When next with idle steps I passed that way, Prone in the mire the king’s fair rosebud lay.
SOMEWHERE
How can I cease to pray for thee? Somewhere In God’s great universe thou art to-day: Can He not reach thee with His tender care? Can He not hear me when for thee I pray?
What matters it to Him, who holds within The hollow of His hand all worlds, all space, That thou art done with earthly pain and sin? Somewhere within His ken thou hast a place.
Somewhere thou livest and hast need of Him: Somewhere thy soul sees higher heights to climb; And somewhere still there may be valleys dim That thou must pass to reach the hills sublime.
Then all the more, because thou canst not hear Poor human words of blessing, will I pray, O true, brave heart! God bless thee, whereso’er In His great universe thou art to-day!
PERADVENTURE
I am thinking to-night of the little child That lay on my breast three summer days, Then swiftly, silently, dropped from sight, While my soul cried out in sore amaze.