Page:Poems Freston.djvu/111

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And I will use my highest art,
 To give it immortality."

"Oh, may I choose the subject, dear?"
 Her eyes looked grave while her lips smiled.
"A moment let me think it out,
 Then you may greet my spirit's child.

"A long, low window toward the West,
 Viewed from the inner side;
A crimson curtain's shimmering folds
 Drawn loosely to one side.

The casement open to the breeze,
 Showing a blue, blue sky,
O'er which one tiny, fleecy cloud
 Goes softly floating by.

Outside the window grows a tree,
 A small branch seen within,
Its leaves just quivering with life
 And love of the sweet spring.

And on the dark stone window ledge
 Lies one rich, full-blown rose,
Plucked from its stem by some dear friend,—
 Or lover, no one knows,—