"O angel," cried she, "bitter is the fate
That drives me from this fairest paradise,
And bids me wear life's rue and not its rose!
Give me one flower to lay upon my heart
Before I wander through far lands less fair,
And drown all visions of my past in tears."
She ceased, but still flowed fast her silent tears
At memory of the waywardness of fate.
"Ah," thought she, "young I am, 'tis true, and fair,
But shall I find another paradise?"
Then turning once again with trembling heart,
She spake: "O angel, but a rose-one rose!"
Within the angel's breast compassion rose
At sight of her sad face and falling tears,
The while her beauty touched his tender heart,
And knowing well the misery of her fate,
He gave the flower, a rose of paradise,
Because she was so very young and fair.
And since that time there may be flowers as fair,
But they must all yield fealty to the rose,
The red, red rose that bloomed in paradise,
That Eve in exile watered with her tears,
The only blossom in her cheerless fate,
The one flower in the desert of her heart.
And into every mortal's life and heart
There come some time, in cloudy days or fair,
It matters not, to bless and light his fate
For one short space, the perfume of the rose;
And though the after years may bring but tears,
That moment's pleasure is of paradise.
O wondrous rose of love most passing fair,
Whate'er our fate in earthly paradise,
Grant that our tears be dewdrops in thy heart.
Florence M. Byrne.
LOVE'S GOING.
(Sestina.)
Love lies a-sleeping: maiden, softly sing,
Lest he should waken; pluck the falling rose
A-brushing 'gainst his cheek, her glowing heart
Ope'd to the sun's hot kisses-foolish thing,
To list the tale oft told!-but summer goes,
And all the roses' petals fall apart.