Poems (Terry, 1861)/Trailing arbutus

by Rose Terry Cooke

For works with similar titles, see Trailing arbutus.

POEMS.

TRAILING ARBUTUS.

      Darlings of the forest!       Blossoming alone      When Earth's grief is sorest       For her jewels gone—Ere the last snow-drift melts, your tender buds have blown.

      Tinged with color faintly,       Like the morning sky,      Or more pale and saintly,       Wrapped in leaves ye lie,Even as children sleep in faith's simplicity.

      There the wild wood-robin       Hymns your solitude,      And the rain comes sobbing       Through the budding wood,While the low south wind sighs, but dare not be more rude.

      Were your pure lips fashioned       Out of air and dew:      Starlight unimpassioned,       Dawn's. most tender hue—And scented by the woods that gathered sweets for you?

      Fairest and most lonely,       From the world apart,      Made for beauty only,       Veiled from Nature's heart,With such unconscious grace as makes the dream of Art!

      Were not mortal sorrow       An immortal shade,      Then would I to-morrow       Such a flower be made,And live in the dear woods where my lost childhood played.