Poems (Odom)/A Jessamine Flower
A JESSAMINE FLOWER.INSCRIBED TO MY SISTER "MADGE."
Only a soft, white jessamine flower With its pressed leaves pale and fair,Bringing to me from my dear old home A breath of its fragrant air.
It comes like the touch of a spirit hand Bathing my heart in its bloom,Rousing the memories laid to rest In their coldly quiet tomb.
Ah! well I remember the spot where it grew, And opened its petals of snow—'T is draping and wreathing the white column still, As it did in the days long ago.
I stood in its shade on that clear June night, With its white flowers blooming above;My young heart aglow in my cheeks as it played The first fairy prelude of love.
The years glided on, death came to our home— Floated in on the Jessamine's breath;Its pale blossoms lay in sweet baby hands That were folded forever in death.
The same starry blooms lightly clung in the curls That fell o'er my darling's dead brow,And my tears are like rain on the jessamine leaves, Whenever I look on them now.
Frail, beautiful messenger, fresh from the spot So dear to my earlier years;You have opened the door of a temple to-night That gives you baptism in tears.