THE ROSE
NEVER again, Dearest, oh never more!
Not in the spring-time's swift enchanted reign,
Shall hope to hope, shall love to love implore.
Never again!
Not in the summer—nor when autumn's wane
Blows the dry leaves along earth's windy floor.
Nor in the winter: that strange joy and pain
No seasons' circle ever can restore.
The roses of to-day no tears shall stain,—
They're thornless! You shall see the rose you wore
Never again!
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WHERE ARE YOU, DEAR?
WHERE are you, Dear, now that the winter white
Has nearly run its course? Spring will be here
And birds shall sing as home they wing their flight,
"Where are you, Dear?"
Thus I have sung and waited thro' the year.
Saying at morning: "He will come with night?"
And in the night: "With the dawn kind and clear.
He will pass by!" My little dwelling bright
Has its soft curtains drawn; I wait the cheer
Your presence brings by day and candle-light;
"Where are you, Dear?"
