Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘roses’

I remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn:
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember,
The roses, red and white,
The violets and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday, –
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember,
The place I was used to swing;
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing:
My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember,
The fir trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,
But now ’tis little joy
To know I’m farther off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.

Read Full Post »

 
Nathaniel Currier and James Merritt Ives

Image via Wikipedia

     The Blue And The Gray

By the flow of the inland river,
   Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave grass quiver,
   Asleep are the ranks of the dead; –
      Under the sod and the dew,
         Waiting the judgment day; –
      Under the one, the Blue;
          Under the other, the Gray.

These in the robings of glory,
   Those in the gloom of defeat,
All with the battle blood gory,
   In the dusk of eternity meet; –
      Under the sod and the dew,
         Waiting the judgment day; –
      Under the laurel, the Blue;
         Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours
   The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers
   Alike for the friend and the foe, –
      Under the sod and the dew,
         Waiting the judgment day; –
      Under the roses, the Blue;
         Under the lilies, the Gray.

So with an equal splendor
   The morning sun rays fall,
With a touch, impartially tender,
   On the blossoms blooming for all; –
      Under the sod and the dew,
         Waiting the judgment day; –
      ‘Broidered with gold, the Blue;
         Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,
   On forest and field of grain
With an equal murmur falleth
   The cooling drip of the rain; –
      Under the sod and the dew,
         Waiting the judgment day; –
      Wet with the rain, the Blue;
         Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
   The generous deed was done;
In the storm of the years that are fading,
   No braver battle was won; –
      Under the sod and the dew,
         Waiting the judgment day; –
      Under the blossoms, the Blue;
         Under the garlands, the Gray.

No more shall the war cry sever,
   Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever
   When they laurel the graves of our dead!
      Under the sod and the dew,
         Waiting the judgment day; –
      Love and tears for the Blue,
         Tears and love for the Gray.

—————————————————-

Image: Currier and Ives

Read Full Post »