My Loss
IN the world was one green nook I knew, Full of roses, roses red and white,
Reddest roses summer ever grew,
Whitest roses ever pearled with dew; And their sweetness was beyond delight,
Was all love's delight.
Wheresoever in the world I went, Roses were; for in my heart I
Blow and blossom and bewildering scent;
Roses never with the summer spent, Roses always ripening in that nook,
Love's far summer nook.
In the world a soddened plot I know Blackening in this chill and misty air,
Set with shivering bushes in a row,
One by one the last leaves letting go: Wheresoe'er I turn I shall be there,
Always sighing there.
Ah, my folly!
Ah, my loss, my pain! Dead, my roses that can blow no more!
Wherefore looked I on our nook again?
Wherefore went I after autumn's rain, Where the summer roses bloomed before,
Bloomed so sweet before?
Augusta Davies Webster
Other author posts
The Pine
The elm lets fall its leaves before the frost, The very oak grows shivering and sere, The trees are barren when the summer's lost: But one tree keeps its goodness all the year
The Happiest Girl in the World
A week ago; only a little week:it seems so much much longer, though that dayis every morning still my yesterday;as all my life 'twill be my yesterday,for all my life is morrow to my love Oh fortunate morrow Oh sweet happy love A wee...
Dearest this one day we own
ST, this one day we own, Stolen from the crowd and press, Let it be sweet silence's We two, heart in heart, alone; Any speech were less We are weary, even thus, Talk might turn to discontent Else be practised merriment:
Dear love good-night
AR love, good-night And, tender sleep, Seal up her lids like these drowsed flowers, To make day fair when they unclose