WILLIAM PHILPOT
1823-1889
757. Maritæ Suæ
I
Of all the flowers rising now,
Thou only saw'st the head
Of that unopen'd drop of snow
I placed beside thy bed.
In all the blooms that blow so fast,
Thou hast no further part,
Save those the hour I saw thee last,
I laid above thy heart.
Two snowdrops for our boy and girl,
A primrose blown for me,
Wreathed with one often-play'd-with curl
From each bright head for thee.
And so I graced thee for thy grave,
And made these tokens fast
With that old silver heart I gave,
My first gift—and my last.
II
I dream'd, her babe upon her breast,
Here she might lie and calmly rest
Her happy eyes on that far hill
That backs the landscape fresh and still.
I hoped her thoughts would thrid the boughs
Where careless birds on love carouse,
And gaze those apple-blossoms through
To revel in the boundless blue.
