The Home Book of Verse Volume Ii Part 42

Yes, I will come when this wealth is over Of softened color and perfect tone-- The lilac's better than fields of clover; I'll come when blossoming May has flown.

When dust and dirt of a trampled city Have dragged the yellow laburnum down, I'll take my holiday--more's the pity-- And turn my back upon London town.

Margaret! am I so wrong to love it, This misty town that your face s.h.i.+nes through?

A crown of blossom is waved above it; But heart and life of the whirl--'tis you!

Margaret! pearl! I have sought and found you; And, though the paths of the wind are free, I'll follow the ways of the world around you, And build my nest on the nearest tree!

Clement Scott [1841-1904]

MY ROAD

There's a road to heaven, a road to h.e.l.l, A road for the sick and one for the well; There's a road for the false and a road for the true, But the road for me is the road to you.

There's a road through prairie and forest and glen, A road to each place in human ken; There's a road over earth and a road over sea, But the road to you is the road for me.

There's a road for animal, bird, and beast, A road for the greatest, a road for the least; There's a road that is old and a road that is new, But the road for me is the road to you.

There's a road for the heart and a road for the soul, There's a road for a part and a road for the whole; There's a road for love,--which few ever see,-- 'Tis the road to you and the road for me.

Oliver Opd.y.k.e [1878-

A WHITE ROSE

The red rose whispers of pa.s.sion, And the white rose breathes of love; Oh, the red rose is a falcon, And the white rose is a dove.

But I send you a cream white rosebud With a flush on its petal tips; For the love that is purest and sweetest Has a kiss of desire on the lips.

John Boyle O'Reilly [1844-1890]

"SOME DAY OF DAYS"

Some day, some day of days, threading the street With idle, heedless pace, Unlooking for such grace I shall behold your face!

Some day, some day of days, thus may we meet.

Perchance the sun may s.h.i.+ne from skies of May, Or winter's icy chill Touch whitely vale and hill.

What matter? I shall thrill Through every vein with summer on that day.

Once more life's perfect youth will all come back, And for a moment there I shall stand fresh and fair, And drop the garment care; Once more my perfect youth will nothing lack.

I shut my eyes now, thinking how 'twill be-- How face to face each soul Will slip its long control, Forget the dismal dole Of dreary Fate's dark, separating sea;

And glance to glance, and hand to hand in greeting, The past with all its fears, Its silences and tears, Its lonely, yearning years, Shall vanish in the moment of that meeting.

Nora Perry [1832-1896]

THE TELEPHONE

"When I was just as far as I could walk From here to-day, There was an hour All still When leaning with my head against a flower I heard you talk.

Don't say I didn't, for I heard you say-- You spoke from that flower on the window sill-- Do you remember what it was you said?"

"First tell me what it was you thought you heard."

"Having found the flower and driven a bee away, I leaned my head, And holding by the stalk, I listened and I thought I caught the word-- What was it? Did you call me by my name?

Or did you say-- Someone said 'Come'--I heard it as I bowed."

"I may have thought as much, but not aloud."

"Well, so I came."

Robert Frost [1875-

WHERE LOVE IS

By the rosy cliffs of Devon, on a green hill's crest, I would build me a house as a swallow builds its nest; I would curtain it with roses, and the wind should breathe to me The sweetness of the roses and the saltness of the sea.

Where the Tuscan olives whiten in the hot blue day, I would hide me from the heat in a little hut of gray, While the singing of the husbandmen should scale my lattice green From the golden rows of barley that the poppies blaze between.

Narrow is the street, Dear, and dingy are the walls Wherein you wait my coming as the twilight falls.

All day with dreams I gild the grime till at your step I start-- Ah Love, my country in your arms--my home upon your heart!

Amelia Josephine Burr [1878-

THAT DAY YOU CAME

Such special sweetness was about That day G.o.d sent you here, I knew the lavender was out, And it was mid of year.

Their common way the great winds blew, The s.h.i.+ps sailed out to sea; Yet ere that day was spent I knew Mine own had come to me.

As after song some s.n.a.t.c.h of tune Lurks still in gra.s.s or bough, So, somewhat of the end o' June Lurks in each weather now.

The young year sets the buds astir, The old year strips the trees; But ever in my lavender I hear the brawling bees.