Classic Poem

Ah , the soft, the perfumed laces,
Oh, the dear, distracting graces,
And her eyes,
Like twin stars, that from their places
Look ever grave and wise;
And her mouth, in mute surprise,
Like a poppy dream reposes
Till she speaks;
Then a smile breaks through the roses,
Through the darling, dimpled roses
Of her cheeks!
Ah! the dreams she half discloses
When she sighs!

Roses can not bloom forever —
They must fade.
Who hath found a light that never
Casts a shade?

Lovers hath she — scores of lovers,
But to none her heart discovers,
All her mind.
Cruel still, yet half relenting,
Scornful now, though half repenting,
Half inclined, but not consenting
To be kind.
Young and old men, saints and sinners,
Veterans scarred, and new beginners,
Sue for love, but none are winners;
She is free —
Heart and hand — and life before her,
Free to lure each fond adorer —
Time and heavenly grace restore her —
Blind is she.


Thus in the years gone by
I penned the picture of a fair coquette;
To-day I scan the lines — but with a sigh
Of heartfelt, deep regret.

To lightly speak — at all — of womankind,
Brings its reward of pain,
And from remorseful thoughts the haunted mind
Shall seek release in vain.

But said I not — the roses fall from blight?
However fair they bloom.
And never yet was seen a glow of light
Without the shadow's gloom.
I saw her when at last
A lover sought her from the silent land,
And she — unlike her old self of the past —
Gave him both heart and hand.
And so it came to be —
The cheerful bloom was faded from her cheek
Beneath the touch of lips that did not speak,
But kissed her silently.
And yet — mayhap I dreamed —
But round her lips from which there came no breath,
There played a smile, in which her soul did seem
Coquetting still, with death.

None shall shame her — none shall blame her,
Since her lover came to claim her,
And she gave him heart and hand;
For the angel that did bear her
Where the gates of heaven stand,
Ever after said, no fairer
Soul had reached that shining land,
Yet, of those who thronged to meet her,
Stretching out their arms to greet her,

There be some who still relate,
How they wish for nothing sweeter
Than the smile she gave St. Peter,
As she passed the heavenly gate.