The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rose and Roof-Tree, by George
Parsons Lathrop
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Title: Rose and Roof-Tree
Poems
Author: George Parsons Lathrop
Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7110]
[Yes, we are more
than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on March
11, 2003]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1
0. START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSE AND
ROOF-TREE ***
Produced by Michelle Shephard, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks
and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
ROSE AND ROOF-TREE:
POEMS
by
GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP
[Illustration: JESSAMINE]
Upon the enchanted ladder of his rhymes,
Round after round and patiently
The poet ever upward climbs.
DEDICATION.
_I need give my verse no hint as to whom it sings for. The rose,
knowing her own right, makes servitors of the light-rays to carry her
color. So every line here shall in some sense breathe of thee, and in its
very face bear record of her whom, however unworthily, it seeks to
serve and honor._
CONTENTS.
WINDFALLS.
ROSE AND ROOF-TREE
MUSIC OF GROWTH
A SONG
LONG AGO
MELANCHOLY
CONTENTMENT
PART FIRST.
AN APRIL ARIA
THE BOBOLINK
THE SUN-SHOWER
JUNE LONGINGS
A RUNE OF THE RAIN
THE
SONG-SPARROW
FAIRHAVEN BAY
CHANT FOR
AUTUMN
BEFORE THE SNOW
THE GHOSTS OF
GROWTH
THE LILY-POND
PART SECOND.
FIRST GLANCE
"THE SUNSHINE OF THINE EYES"
"WHEN, LOOKING DEEPLY IN THY FACE"
WITHIN A
YEAR
THE SINGING WIRE
MOODS OF LOVE:
I. In Absence
II. Heart's Fountain
III. South-Wind Song
IV. The
Lover's Year
V. New Worlds
VI. Wedding-Night
LOVE'S
DEFEAT
MAY AND MARRIAGE
THE FISHER OF THE
CAPE
SAILOR'S SONG
JESSAMINE
GRIEF'S HERO
A
FACE IN THE STREET
THE BATHER
HELEN AT THE
LOOM
"O WHOLESOME DEATH"
BURIAL-SONG FOR
SUMNER
ARISE, AMERICAN!
THE SILENT TIDE
WINDFALLS.
ROSE AND ROOF-TREE.
O wayward rose, why dost thou wreathe so high,
Wasting thyself in
sweet-breath'd ecstasy?
"The pulses of the wind my life uplift,
And through my sprays I feel
the sunlight sift;
"And all my fibres, in a quick consent
Entwined, aspire to fill their
heavenward bent.
"I feel the shaking of the far-off sea,
And all things growing blend
their life with me:
"When men and women on me look, there glows
Within my veins a
life not of the rose.
"Then let me grow, until I touch the sky,
And let me grow and grow
until I die!"
So, every year, the sweet rose shooteth higher,
And scales the roof
upon its wings of fire,
And pricks the air, in lovely discontent,
With thorns that question still
of its intent.
But when it reached the roof-tree, there it clung,
Nor ever farther up
its blossoms flung.
O wayward rose, why hast thou ceased to climb?
Hast thou forgot the
ardor of thy prime?
"O hearken!"--thus the rose-spray, listening,--
"With what weird
music sweet these full hearts ring!
"What mazy ripples of deep, eddying sound,
Rise, touch the roof-tree
old, and drift around,
"Bearing aloft the burden musical
Of joys and griefs from human
hearts that fall!
"Green stem and fair, flush'd circle I will lay
Along the roof, and
listen here alway;
"For rose and tree, and every leafy growth
That toward the sky
unfolds with spiry blowth,
"No purpose hath save this, to breathe a grace
O'er men, and in men's
hearts to seek a place.
"Therefore, O poet, thou who gav'st to me
The homage of thy humble
sympathy,
"No longer vest thy verse in rose-leaves frail:--
Let the heart's voice
loud through thy pæan wail!"
Lo, at my feet the wind of autumn throws
A hundred turbulent
blossoms of the rose,
Full of the voices of the sea and grove
And air, and full of hidden,
murmured love,
And warm with passion through the roof-tree sent;
Dew-drenched
with tears;--all in one wild gush spent!
MUSIC OF GROWTH.
Music is in all growing things;
And underneath the silky wings
Of
smallest insects there is stirred
A pulse of air that must be heard.
Earth's silence lives, and throbs, and sings.
If poet from the vibrant strings
Of his poor heart a measure flings,
Laugh not, that he no trumpet blows:
It may be that Heaven hears and
knows
His language of low listenings.
A SONG LONG AGO.
Through the pauses of thy fervid singing
Fell crystal sound
That thy fingers from the keys were flinging
Lightly around:
I felt the vine-like harmonies close clinging
About my
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