POETRY.
THE WAYSIDE FLOWER.
WEARY, by the wayside I sat me down, Weary to weeping nigh, by the wayside forlorn, Careless of fine weather or the sullen thunder frown, Dusk of even, hush of night, blush of morn.
Many passed me by, to and fro, From the plains to north of me, from the hills to south of me, But they paid no heed to me, nor my woe, Tear-stained eye, pale cheek, and tremulous mouth of me.
As I sat weary by the wayside, nigh on weeping, By my side, on the moorland, hour by hour, Hither swayed and thither by the wilful winds sweeping, On the common. by me, bloomed a white flower.
Uncompelled, toward me, the white flower bent, Playfully, longingly, on the moorland forlorn; Scattered on the air intoxicating scent, Perfume far away by the fortunate breezes borne.
Gentle to my soul, as I sat weary there, Floated up the white soul of the moorland blossom :. " Take me for a balm to your sorrow and despair, Take me, a white dove, to nest in your bosom."
"Sweet, I have a rose in my heart, a red rose, With its passion and its pain, its perfume, its sting; A red rose, goldsm-lx•somed, and forlorn, where it blows, Through the traneed summer midnights the- nightingale, sing."
" Lean your soul to me, beloved, let your cold "tears Fall as cooling deivs upon me, and your sighs Sway me hither and thither, for my flower-white spirit hears Your heart calling, calling me, and love is in your eyes."
"Can I gather you to crush you, white, white flower? Crush and cast your withered petals far and far away? Let me sit beside you to dream for an hour, Dream an hour and leave you forever and a day !"
" Where the flush of pink is on my leaf-lips, love Kneels between my lips to breathe a prayer ;
You, poor, lonely, passing one—I, poor, white dove,—
Put your lips to my pink leaf-lips and kiss me there."
As I sat to weeping- weary, by the wayside forlorn, Lip to lip we clung a moment, I and she ; And I arose and went my way, on the morrow-morn, And the perfume of her beauty is evermore with me.
J. REDWOOD-ANDERSON,
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