Poems (Piatt)/Volume 1/Two Blush-Roses

by Sarah Piatt

TWO BLUSH-ROSES.

A blush-rose lay in the summer;
 There were golden lights in the sky,
And a woman saw the blossom,
 As she stood with her lover nigh.

A band in the flowering distance
 Played a dreamy Italian air,
Like a memory changed to music,
 And it drifted everywhere.

'Twas an exiled love of its Southland,
 That air, and its delicate wails
Were only the wandering echoes
 Of the songs of nightingales.

"I love you," he tenderly whispered;
 "I love you," she answered as low:
And the music grew sweeter and sweeter,
 Because it had listened, I know.

But she looked at the rose in the summer,
 And said, with a tremulous tear,
"The love that now beats in my bosom
 Will bloom in a blush-rose next year."

A blush-rose lay in the summer;
 There were golden lights in the sky,
And a woman saw the blossom,
 As she stood with her lover nigh.

The band in the flowering distance
 Played the dreamy Italian air,
Like a memory changed to music,
 And it drifted everywhere.

"I love you," he tenderly whispered;
 "I love you," she timidly said:
And the music grew sadder and sadder,
 And the blush-rose before them dropped dead.

Then he knew that the music remembered,
 And knew the love that had beat
Last year in her beautiful bosom
 Lay dead in the rose at his feet.