98
Poems
And where the silken curtain folds
A shadow from the light,
A laurel wreath is lying,
Tied with ribbons, blue and white.
A shadow from the light,
A laurel wreath is lying,
Tied with ribbons, blue and white.
But the wreath lies in the shadow
While the sunbeams kiss the rose,
As though they really loved it,
And everybody knows
While the sunbeams kiss the rose,
As though they really loved it,
And everybody knows
They are always called 'God's messengers,'
Now do you think that you
Can truly paint my picture?
And give the moral, too?"
Now do you think that you
Can truly paint my picture?
And give the moral, too?"
"Yes, yes, he said, "I see it all!
Quick, I place the canvas here!
I must not lose a single shade,
And now it is so clear."
Quick, I place the canvas here!
I must not lose a single shade,
And now it is so clear."
And he painted well the picture,
And she clapped her hands and cried,
"It is perfect! It is perfect!
But the moral?" and she sighed.
And she clapped her hands and cried,
"It is perfect! It is perfect!
But the moral?" and she sighed.
"Dear, I read it while I painted,
And I hold the lesson true,
For I see it all,—my folly,—
As it must appear to you.
And I hold the lesson true,
For I see it all,—my folly,—
As it must appear to you.
