DOWN where the garden grows, Gay as a banner, Spake to her mate the Rose After this manner: -- 'We are the first of flowers, Plain-land or hilly, All reds and whites are ours, Are they not, Lily?' Then to the flowers I spake, -- 'Watch ye my Lady Gone to the leafy brake, Silent and shady; When I am near to her, Lily, she knows; How I am dear to her, Look to it, Rose.' Straightway the Blue-bell stooped, Paler for pride, Down where the Violet drooped, Shy, at her side: -- 'Sweetheart, save me and you, Where has the summer kist Flowers of as fair a hue, -- Turkis or Amethyst?' Therewith I laughed aloud, Spake on this wise, 'O little flowers so proud, Have ye seen eyes Change through the blue in them, -- Change till the mere Loving that grew in them Turned to a tear? 'Flowers, ye are bright of hue, Delicate, sweet; Flowers, and the sight of you Lightens men's feet; Yea, but her worth to me, Flowerets, even, Sweetening the earth to me, Sweeteneth heaven. 'This, then, O Flowers, I sing; God, when He made ye, Made yet a fairer thing Making my Lady; -- Fashioned her tenderly, Giving all weal to her; -- Girdle ye slenderly, Go to her, kneel to her, -- 'Saying, "He sendeth us, He the most dutiful, Meetly he endeth us, Maiden most beautiful! Let us get rest of you, Sweet, in your breast; -- Die, being prest of you, Die, being blest."' |