The Ruby.
Did'st ever think the ruby
Was the blood of human hearts,
Congealed by constant sorrow,
And the arrow of pains' darts?
It is said, whoever wears them
Is insured from harm to come,
And it ferrets out all poison,
Wherever one may roam.
But there's something in its color
And in its meaning too,
That has a double savor,—
May it not be thus to you.
Was the blood of human hearts,
Congealed by constant sorrow,
And the arrow of pains' darts?
It is said, whoever wears them
Is insured from harm to come,
And it ferrets out all poison,
Wherever one may roam.
But there's something in its color
And in its meaning too,
That has a double savor,—
May it not be thus to you.