Produced by Michelle Shephard, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks

and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

ROSE AND ROOF-TREE:

POEMS

by

GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP

[Illustration: JESSAMINE]

  Upon the enchanted ladder of his rhymes,
      Round after round and patiently
      The poet ever upward climbs.

DEDICATION.

I need give my verse no hint as to whom it sings for. The rose,knowing her own right, makes servitors of the light-rays to carry hercolor. So every line here shall in some sense breathe of thee, and inits very face bear record of her whom, however unworthily, it seeks toserve and honor.

CONTENTS.

WINDFALLS.

ROSE AND ROOF-TREE MUSIC OF GROWTH A SONG LONG AGO MELANCHOLY CONTENTMENT

PART FIRST.

AN APRIL ARIA THE BOBOLINK THE SUN-SHOWER JUNE LONGINGS A RUNE OF THE RAIN THE SONG-SPARROW FAIRHAVEN BAY CHANT FOR AUTUMN BEFORE THE SNOW THE GHOSTS OF GROWTH THE LILY-POND

PART SECOND.

  FIRST GLANCE
  "THE SUNSHINE OF THINE EYES"
  "WHEN, LOOKING DEEPLY IN THY FACE"
  WITHIN A YEAR
  THE SINGING WIRE
  MOODS OF LOVE:
            I. In Absence
           II. Heart's Fountain
          III. South-Wind Song
           IV. The Lover's Year
            V. New Worlds
           VI. Wedding-Night
  LOVE'S DEFEAT
  MAY AND MARRIAGE
  THE FISHER OF THE CAPE
  SAILOR'S SONG
  JESSAMINE
  GRIEF'S HERO
  A FACE IN THE STREET
  THE BATHER
  HELEN AT THE LOOM
  "O WHOLESOME DEATH"
  BURIAL-SONG FOR SUMNER
  ARISE, AMERICAN!
  THE SILENT TIDE

WINDFALLS.

ROSE AND ROOF-TREE.

   O wayward rose, why dost thou wreathe so high,
   Wasting thyself in sweet-breath'd ecstasy?

  "The pulses of the wind my life uplift,
   And through my sprays I feel the sunlight sift;

  "And all my fibres, in a quick consent
   Entwined, aspire to fill their heavenward bent.

  "I feel the shaking of the far-off sea,
   And all things growing blend their life with me:

  "When men and women on me look, there glows
   Within my veins a life not of the rose.

  "Then let me grow, until I touch the sky,
   And let me grow and grow until I die!"

   So, every year, the sweet rose shooteth higher,
   And scales the roof upon its wings of fire,

   And pricks the air, in lovely discontent,
   With thorns that question still of its intent.

   But when it reached the roof-tree, there it clung,
   Nor ever farther up its blossoms flung.

   O wayward rose, why hast thou ceased to climb?
   Hast thou forgot the ardor of thy prime?

  "O hearken!"—thus the rose-spray, listening,—
  "With what weird music sweet these full hearts ring!

  "What mazy ripples of deep, eddying sound,

...

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