THE PATH THAT LEADS TO NOWHERE

There's a path that leads to nowhere In a meadow that I know, Where an inland island rises And the stream is still and slow; There it wanders under willows And beneath the silver green Of the birches' silent shadows Where the early violets lean.

Other pathways lead to Somewhere, But the one I love so well Had no end and no beginning-- Just the beauty of the dell, Just the windflowers and the lilies, Yellow striped as adder's tongue Seem to satisfy my pathway As it winds their sweets among.

There I go to meet the Spring-time, When the meadow is aglow, Marigolds amid the marshes,-- And the stream is still and slow.-- There I find my fair oasis, And with care-free feet I tread For the pathway leads to nowhere, And the blue is overhead!

All the ways that lead to Somewhere Echo with the hurrying feet Of the Struggling and the Striving, But the way I find so sweet Bids me dream and bids me linger, Joy and Beauty are its goal,-- On the path that leads to nowhere I have sometimes found my soul!

CORINNE ROOSEVELT ROBINSON

LOVERS AND ROSES

THE MESSAGE

_So fair the world about me lies, So pure is heaven above, Ere so much beauty dies I would give a gift to my love; Now, ere the long day close, That has been so full of bliss, I will send to my love the rose, In its leaves I will shut a kiss; A rose in the night to perish, A kiss through life to cherish; Now, ere the night-wind blows, I will send unto her the rose._

GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY

"WHERE LOVE IS LIFE"

Where love is life The roses blow, Though winds be rude And cold the snow, The roses climb Serenely slow, They nod in rhyme We know--we know Where love is life The roses blow.

Where life is love The roses blow, Though care be quick And sorrows grow, Their roots are twined With rose-roots so That rosebuds find A way to show Where life is love The roses blow.

DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT

THE TIME OF ROSES

Love, it is the time of roses!

In bright fields and garden-closes How they burgeon and unfold!

How they sweep o'er tombs and towers In voluptuous crimson showers And untrammelled tides of gold!

How they lure wild bees to capture All the rich mellifluous rapture Of their magical perfume, And to pa.s.sing winds surrender And their frail and dazzling splendor Rivalling your turban-plume!

How they cleave the air adorning The high rivers of the morning In a blithe, bejewelled fleet!

How they deck the moonlit gra.s.ses In thick rainbow tinted ma.s.ses Like a fair queen's bridal sheet!

Hide me in a shrine of roses, Drown me in a wine of roses Drawn from every fragrant grove!

Bind me on a pyre of roses, Burn me in a fire of roses, Crown me with the rose of Love!

SAROJINI NAIDU

LOVE PLANTED A ROSE

Love planted a rose, And the world turned sweet.

Where the wheat-field blows Love planted a rose.

Up the mill-wheel's prose Ran a music-beat.

Love planted a rose, And the world turned sweet.

KATHARINE LEE BATES

THE GARDEN

My heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own, Into thy garden; thine be happy hours Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers, From root to crowning petal thine alone.

Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown Up to the sky enclosed, with all its showers.

But ah, the birds, the birds! Who shall build bowers To keep these thine? O friend, the birds have flown.

For as these come and go, and quit our pine To follow the sweet season, or, new-comers, Sing one song only from our alder-trees,

My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine, Fit to the silent world and other summers, With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.

ALICE MEYNELL

CLOUD AND FLOWER

I saw the giant stalking to the sky, The giant cloud above the wilderness, Bearing a mystery too far, too high, For my poor guess.

Away I turned me, sighing: "I must seek In lowlier places for the wonder-word.

Something more little, intimate, shall speak."

A bright rose stirred.

And long I looked into its face, to see At last some hidden import of the hour.

And I had thought to turn from mystery-- But O, flower! flower!

AGNES LEE

PROGRESS

There seems no difference between To-day and yesterday-- The forest glimmers just as green, The garden's just as gay.

Yet, something came and something went Within the night's chill gloom: An old rose fell, her fragrance spent, A new rose burst in bloom.

CHARLOTTE BECKER

"BUT WE DID WALK IN EDEN"