Wood Anemones.
A mist of violets white and blue,1
A fringe of fern-leaves, washed with dew,2
And dried by April’s breeze :3
A belt of blue-bells all a-row,4
And on the tender grass a snow5
Of wood anemones.6
The wind-swayed branches rise and fall,7
The little wood is musical8
With dulcet tones and clear,9
The hum of bee, the song of bird,10
And in the carol’s pause is heard11
The streamlet running clear.12
Beneath the spreading woodland trees,13
Among the white anemones,14
Two children are at play :15
The blossoms opening one by one16
Their star-like faces to the sun,17
Are not more pure than they.18
They laugh away the merry hours,19
They crown themselves with woodland flowers,20
They mimic bird and bee ;21
Till one, the graver of the twain,22
Holds up, to tell of coming rain,23
A closed anemone.24
Ah, sister mine ! through all the years,25
Through mists of shed and unshed tears26
Mine eyes can yet behold27
A picture of that sunlit wood,28
The snow-white carpet where we stood29
And watched the flowers unfold.30
Ah, sister dear ! ’tis meet for thee31
To wear the wood anemone32
Upon thy gentle breast :33
Thou hast not left life’s quiet ways34
To follow after gain and praise35
With spirit of unrest.36
I had no mind for woodland bowers,37
I scorned the simple woodland flowers38
We pulled together then :39
But waves of tender memory roll40
Full often over my sick soul41
In busy haunts of men.42
And my true nature, finding voice,43
Reminds me of thy better choice,44
Thy calm, contented part :45
My rose of life hath thorns—thy flower46
Is fresh and pure as in the hour47
It blossomed from thine heart.48
Ah, my sweet sister, words are vain,49
Yet could I stand with thee again50
Beneath youth’s budding trees,51
I think my heart would freely choose52
From out all blossoms of all hues53
Life’s wood anemones.54