"FATHER, there are no dew-drops on my rose: I thought to find them, but they all are gone. Was Night a niggard? Or did cunning Dawn Steal those bright diamonds from the slumbering Day?" -- The father answer'd not, but waved his hand, For the soft falling of a summer shower Made quiet music 'mid the quivering leaves, And through the hollows of the freshen'd turf Drew lines like silver. Then a bow sprang forth, Spanning the skies. "Seest thou yon glorious hues Violet and gold? The dew-drops tremble there, That from the bosom of thy rose had fled, My precious child. Read thou the lesson well, That what is pure and beautiful on earth, Shall glow in Heaven." He knew not that he spake Prophetic words. But ere the infant moon Swell'd to a perfect orb its crescent pale, That gentle soul which on the parent's breast Had sparkled as a dew-drop, was exhaled, To mingle 'mid the brightness of the skies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOD'S GARDEN by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON A NEWPORT ROMANCE by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE EMPEROR'S BIRD'S-NEST by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW MOUNTAIN STORM by FRANCES DAVIS ADAMS FROM A YOUNG WOMAN TO AN OLD OFFICER WHO COURTED HER by ELIZABETH FRANCES AMHERST THE THREE MUSICIANS by AUBREY BEARDSLEY |