440
IN HELENA'S GARDEN
A ROSE OF DREAM
I dreamed a rose; it bloomed
Beyond compare;
Of all wild blossoms by the wayside
Most rich, most sweet, most rare.
So lovely was the rose
I could but love it,
As, drinking deep its fragrant soul,
I bent above it.
O tenderly its leaves
Outbreathed their beauty;
Humbly to worship at that shrine
Was my dear duty.
Once, when in the twilight hour,
Its spirit drew me—
O wonderful! I was aware
That wild rose knew me.
Knew me, my inmost heart—
And, O above
All joy imagined! lo! my rose
Gave love for love.
SONG
O, whither has she fled from out the dawning and the day?
Empty is the dark of her, and twilight silver gray,
For the world that she makes happy now is far and far away.
