She wept, "Now let my punishment begin!
I have been fond and foolish. Let me in
To expiate my sorrow and my sin."
The angel answered, "Nay, sad soul, go higher!
To be deceived in your true heart's desire
Was bitterer than a thousand years of fire!"
JOHN HAY.
A noisette on my garden path
An ever-swaying shadow throws; But if I pluck it strolling by,
I pluck the shadow with the rose.
Just near enough my heart you stood
To shadow it,—but was it fair In him, who plucked and bore you off,
To leave your shadow lingering there?
ROBERT CAMERON ROGERS.
HAS SUMMER COME WITHOUT THE ROSE?
Has summer come without the rose,
Or left the bird behind? Is the blue changed above thee,
O world! or am I blind? Will you change every flower that grows,
Or only change this spot, Where she who said, I love thee,
Now says, I love thee not?
The skies seemed true above thee,
The rose true on the tree; The bird seemed true the summer through,
But all proved false to me. World, is there one good thing in you,
Life, love, or death—or what? Since lips that sang, I love thee,
Have said, I love thee not?