Verbenas, dahlias, asters, scarlet cannas
Like torches flaming tall;
(Methought the fair, old face, enframed in silver,
The sweetest flower of all!)
And one rare rose she watched each year with hoping
Till the dear eyes grew dim—
But ere a single blossom burst in beauty
God took her home to Him.
Yet when the Spring next woke the earth to laughter
And boon of blossom gave,
Starred was the rose with white, unearthly flowers—
We laid them on her grave.
* * * * *
And so, meseems, the buds we woo most fondly
Nor light nor perfume shed;
And Love's gold-hearted rose and Hope's star-flower
Oft bloom when we are dead.
To Bliss Carman
Great hearted brother to the wilderness,
Comrade of Wind and Sea! Interpreter
Of nomad Nature! Ere the quick'ning stir
Of Spring-sap thrills the wood from sullen stress
Of Winter's spell—away from throngèd press
Of urban ways thy wild feet wander far
Tracking the steps of some white Northern star
Whose rays are beacon to thy restlessness.
Weird mystic of the Northland's mystery,
Thou 'front'st the Unseen Shadow, nor dost fear
To meet the Scarlet Hunter on the trail;
Pagan as Pan; to all things sylvan dear,
Nature's own vagrant, buoyant, driftless, free—
All winds and woods and waters cry thee hail!
When Love Passed By
I dreamt of love in the golden glory
Of youth unshadowed by cloud or care;
Steeped in the love-lore of song and story,
I said, "My Love shall be wondrous fair."