In the middle of my garden-bed, I took the stem, and shook and shook it, And oh! I said, you sweet large roses, Just drop into my bosom here, And die along with me! THEOPHILE MARZIALS. MAJOLICA AND ROCOCO. @HEN I was by Chloe kiss'd, If 'twas life before without her, If angels love above in heaven, Then death must be too oversweet, For this dear love thy lips have given, Has made this life, my love, replete. The rose of her cheek may wane and die, THEOPHILE MARZIALS. BABY. HERE did you come from, baby dear? Where did you get those eyes so blue? What makes the light in them sparkle and spin? Where did you get that little tear? I found it waiting when I got here. What makes your forehead so smooth and high? A soft hand stroked it as I went by. What makes your cheek like a warm white rose? Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ? Where did you get this pearly ear? Where did you get those arms and hands? Feet, whence did you come, you darling things? From the same box as the cherubs' wings. How did they all just come to be you? But how did you come to us, you dear? GEORGE MACDONALD. TO A CHILD. F by any device or knowledge The rosebud its beauty could know, It would stay a rosebud for ever, Nor into its fulness grow. And if thou could'st know thy own sweetness, FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE. |