THE CLAY TO THE ROSE
O beautiful, royal Rose,
O Rose, so fair and sweet!
Queen of the garden art thou,
And I—the Clay at thy feet!
O Rose, so fair and sweet!
Queen of the garden art thou,
And I—the Clay at thy feet!
The butterfly hovers about thee;
The brown bee kisses thy lips;
And the humming-bird, reckless rover,
Their marvellous sweetness sips.
The brown bee kisses thy lips;
And the humming-bird, reckless rover,
Their marvellous sweetness sips.
The sunshine hastes to caress thee
Flying on pinions fleet;
The dew-drop sleeps in thy bosom,
But I—I lie at thy feet!
Flying on pinions fleet;
The dew-drop sleeps in thy bosom,
But I—I lie at thy feet!
The radiant morning crowns thee;
And the noon's hot heart is thine;
And the starry night enfolds thee
In the might of its love divine;
And the noon's hot heart is thine;
And the starry night enfolds thee
In the might of its love divine;
I hear the warm rain whisper
Its message soft and sweet;
And the south-wind's passionate murmur,
While I lie low at thy feet!
Its message soft and sweet;
And the south-wind's passionate murmur,
While I lie low at thy feet!
It is not mine to approach thee;
I never may kiss thy lips,
Or touch the hem of thy garment
With tremulous finger-tips.
I never may kiss thy lips,
Or touch the hem of thy garment
With tremulous finger-tips.
Yet, O thou beautiful Rose!
Queen rose, so fair and sweet,
What were lover or crown to thee
Without the Clay at thy feet?
Queen rose, so fair and sweet,
What were lover or crown to thee
Without the Clay at thy feet?