Poems (Dorr)/A Red Rose

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A RED ROSE
O Rose, my red, red Rose, Where has thy beauty fled?Low in the west is a sea of fire,But the great white moon soars high and higher, As my garden walks I tread.
Thy white rose-sisters gleam Like stars in the darkening sky;They bend their brows with a sudden thrillTo the kiss of the night-dews soft and still, When the warm south wind floats by.
And the stately lilies stand Fair in the silvery light,Like saintly vestals, pale in prayer;Their pure breath sanctifies the air, As its fragrance fills the night.
But O, my red, red Rose! My Rose with the crimson lips!So bright thou wert in the sunny morn,Yet now thou art hiding all forlorn, And thy soul is in drear eclipse!
Dost thou mourn thy lover dead— Thy lover, the lordly Sun?Didst thou see him sink in the glowing westWith pomp of banners above his rest? He shall rise again, sweet one!
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He shall rise with his eye of fire— And thy passionate heart shall beat,And thy radiant blushes burn again,With the joy of rapture after pain At the coming of his feet!
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