QUESTIONING A ROSE
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Have they whispered in thine ear
Mysteries of the rain and dew,
And the sunshine that they knew?
Have they told thee how the breeze
Wooed them, and the amorous bees?
Mysteries of the rain and dew,
And the sunshine that they knew?
Have they told thee how the breeze
Wooed them, and the amorous bees?
"Silent, art thou? Thy repose
Mocks me, yet I fain would know
Art thou kin to one rare rose
Of a summer long ago?
It was sweet, it was fair;
Someone twined it in my hair,
When my young cheek, blushing red,
Shamed the roses, someone said.
Dust and ashes though it be,
Still its soul lives on in thee."
Mocks me, yet I fain would know
Art thou kin to one rare rose
Of a summer long ago?
It was sweet, it was fair;
Someone twined it in my hair,
When my young cheek, blushing red,
Shamed the roses, someone said.
Dust and ashes though it be,
Still its soul lives on in thee."
