"Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast?

Your date is not so past, But you may stay yet here awhile To blush and gently smile, And go at last.

"What, were ye born to be An hour or half's delight, And so to bid good-night?

'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth, And lose you quite.

"But you are lovely leaves, where we May read how soon things have Their end, though ne'er so brave: And after they have shown their pride Like you, awhile, they glide Into the grave."*

-- * 'Palgrave', p. 89.

--

Much like this last piece in import, and scarcely inferior to it in execution, is 'My life is like the summer rose' of Richard Henry Wilde, which is familiar to every one.

Paul Hamilton Hayne's 'The Red and the White Rose' ('Poems', pp. 231-232) is an interesting dialogue, which the author concludes by making the former an "earthly queen" and the latter a "heaven-bound votaress".

Mrs. Browning's 'A Lay of the Early Rose' shows that we are not to strive "for the dole of praise."

To ----, with a Rose

I asked my heart to say [1]

Some word whose worth my love's devoir might pay Upon my Lady's natal day.

Then said my heart to me: 'Learn from the rhyme that now shall come to thee What fits thy Love most lovingly.'

This gift that learning shows; For, as a rhyme unto its rhyme-twin goes, I send a rose unto a Rose.

____ Philadelphia, 1876.

Notes: To ----, with a Rose

This poem was sent to Mrs. Gibson Peac.o.c.k, of Philadelphia, who was one of Mr. Lanier's kindest and most appreciative friends.

The poet's letters to Mr. and Mrs. Peac.o.c.k have recently been published in 'The Atlantic' (see 'Thayer' in 'Bibliography').

Of the numerous rose-compliments in English I can here specify but a few.

One of the prettiest is that by Henry Constable ('Saintsbury', p. 113):

"My Lady's presence makes the Roses red, Because to see her lips they blush for shame."

Carew's compliment is hardly equal to his morals ('Gosse', p. 101):

"Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty's orient deep These flowers, as in their causes, sleep."

Few better things have been written than this, the second stanza of Jonson's 'Drink to me only with thine eyes' ('Gosse', p. 80):

"I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be.

But thou thereon did'st only breathe, And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows and smells, I swear, Not of itself, but thee."*

Even more felicitous, perhaps, is Waller's 'Go, lovely rose!' which is at once a compliment and a moral ('Gosse', p. 134):

"Go, lovely rose Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.

"Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.

"Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.

"Then die! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee; How small a part of time they share That are so wond'rous sweet and fair."

Browning's 'Women and Roses' should also be mentioned, and Mrs. Browning's translation of Sappho's lovely 'Song of the Rose'.

-- * The fact that Jonson here translates a prose love-letter of Philostratus, the Greek sophist, may detract from the originality but not the beauty of his poem.

--

Uncle Jim's Baptist Revival Hymn

By Sidney and Clifford Lanier

SOLO. -- Sin's rooster's crowed, Ole Mahster's riz, [1]

De sleepin'-time is pas'; Wake up dem lazy Baptissis, CHORUS. -- Dey's mightily in de gra.s.s, gra.s.s, Dey's mightily in de gra.s.s.

Ole Mahster's blowed de mornin' horn, He's blowed a powerful blas'; O Baptis' come, come hoe de corn, You's mightily in de gra.s.s, gra.s.s, You's mightily in de gra.s.s.

De Meth'dis team's done hitched; O fool, [11]

De day's a-breakin' fas'; Gear up dat lean ole Baptis' mule, Dey's mightily in de gra.s.s, gra.s.s, Dey's mightily in de gra.s.s.

De workmen's few an' mons'rous slow, De cotton's sheddin' fas'; Whoop, look, jes' look at de Baptis' row, Hit's mightily in de gra.s.s, gra.s.s, Hit's mightily in de gra.s.s.

De jay-bird squeal to de mockin'-bird: "Stop! [21]

Don' gimme none o' yo' sa.s.s; Better sing one song for de Baptis' crop, Dey's mightily in de gra.s.s, gra.s.s, Dey's mightily in de gra.s.s."

And de ole crow croak: "Don' work, no, no;"

But de fiel'-lark say, "Yaas, yaas, An' I spec' you mighty glad, you debblish crow, Dat de Baptissis's in de gra.s.s, gra.s.s, Dat de Baptissis's in de gra.s.s!"

Lord, thunder us up to de plowin'-match, [31]

Lord, peerten de hoein' fas', Yea, Lord, hab mussy on de Baptis' patch, Dey's mightily in de gra.s.s, gra.s.s, Dey's mightily in de gra.s.s.

____ 1876.