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Ashes Of Roses
Tonight I'm thinking of old days, and of old ways and you; Perhaps because the Sunset has spread out across the blue Ashes of dead roses; like the rose I carry still- Do you-of course you don't recall-we found it on the hill Above the chestnut grove--the frost had touched each prickly burr, And nuts were showering about whene'er a breeze would stir, And they would hide beneath the leaves-A molly-cottontail Had dashed away, and Coolie had gone barking on its trail
Why, it was like a flying dart-a furry shaft-so light It started up and startled us, and then was out of sight With Coolie hot upon its trail. Old Coolie must have known Pursuit was vain-perhaps he knew we wished to be alone; I know now dogs are wiser than they used to seem to be; And we were there that frost-touched day beneath the spread- ing tree, And I would stir the leaves and find where hidden treasure lay And you'd exclaim and reach for it-life's had one perfect day!
And when your gingham apron was bulged full with treasure- trove We smiled into each others' eyes and climbed up from the grove, And finally we had reached where wild roses used to grow; The hill and the blue sky above, the frost-kissed grove below; And, oh, your cheeks were such a red! Your golden hair windblown- Why, all the world was Fairyland, and all of it our own! Your red lips were so tremulous-your eyes so bravely blue-- And I am thinking of old days and of old ways and you!
We had smiled in each other's eyes, and turned to go along, When a field lark beyond the rose poured out its soul in song And stopped. We stood enraptured. Then we tippytoed around, And you found summer's last sweet rose! It was as if the sound Of the sweet song had changed into a rose, and waited there ! 'Twas such a golden-hearted rose! So wonderfully fair ! And you stooped swift to gather it-so swift I scarce could see-- Kissed its white petals one by one and handed it to me!
And then my arms were round you tight-my lips were on your own- And you are dead-and I tonight am sitting all alone As I have sat through many years. My father was dead then, My mother needed me--youth goes and comes not back again; You could not waste youth's happy years for what might never be- There was no way of knowing if I ever should be free- And when another lover came--l have your letter yet- And the dead rose--and somehow I know you could not forget. Coolie died first-then mother went out past the vale of tears. And I was left alone with thoughts of you, and lonely years; I know now both of us were wrong in that far yesterday; If mother had been different-but I have put away Such thoughts from me--youth and lost love can never be retrieved, And all that hurts my heart tonight is that you may have grieved Through the long years, and that at times your lashes have been wet With sudden tears-because I know you never could forget ! I know it because, you are dead-the cool breeze on my brow Is like the touch o your cool hands-I feel you near me now- Nearer than you have been since when the whole world turned so still After the field lark's song, and we stood on that distant hill When we had found the rose and you had kissed its petals white-- You're almost in my arms again-your lips on mine tonight! God keep your soul till mine shall come! We were all wrong.\ All wrong! Age should make no demands on youth. Love has its right to song !
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