rkling, till the dawn uch me into bloom, y being panted Sur its first perfume, a paler flower than mine somed in the gloom! John Banister Tabb [1845-1909] EARLY DEATH SHE passed away like morning dew So brief her time, she scarcely knew As round the rose its soft perfume, Love was her guardian Angel here, Though Love was kind, why should we fear Hartley Coleridge [1796-1849] THE MOSS-ROSE WALKING to-day in your garden, O gracious lady, Little you thought, as you turned in that alley remote and shady And gave me a rose, and asked if I knew its savor— The old-world scent of the moss-rose, flower of a bygone favor Little you thought, as you waited the word of appraisement, But I-I saw that garden, with its one treasure The tiny moss-rose, tiny even by childhood's measure. And the long morning shadow of the rusty laurel, And a boy and a girl beneath it, flushed with a childish quarrel. She wept for her one little bud; but he, outreaching The hand of brotherly right, would take it for all her be seeching; Thine eye was soft and glancing, And on the heart thy gentle words They found thee, Lady Mary, The cold pale moon was shining They carved thee, Lady Mary, In the chancel all alone: And I saw thee when the winter moon But thou kneelest, Lady Mary, In the land of rest. Thou art even as they took thee At thine hour of prayer, Save the glory that is on thee From the sun that shineth there. We shall see thee, Lady Mary, On that shore unknown, A pure and happy angel In the presence of the throne; Plays freshly on thy cheek, And the resurrection morning Hath just begun to break. Henry Alford [1810-1871 |