The Last Wild Rose

         In the thickest of the forest

         Where the keen thorns stung the rarest,

Sweet! I found thee; all around thee

         Fading leaves and withered weeds;

         Scattered flakes of sunlight, stealing

         Through the wood-roof’s thinner ceiling,

Made the briery hedges fiery

         With the red lips’ coral heads.

 

         Where, wee darling, wert thou hidden

         When the wild-flowers’ Queen had hidden

Every red rose of the meadows

         To their midyear’s carnival?

         Had the sunny Fays forgot thee?

         Had no frolic Fairy sought thee?

Sweetly wooing, gaily doing

         Service at thy lightest call?

 

         Cardinalis no more scorches

         The dun brook-side with his torches;

Pale Septembers dying embers

         Glow amid their ashes gray;

         Rust consumes the plumy glory

         Of the golden-rod, and hoary

Grow the flocking myriads mocking

         The first gilded fields of May.

 

         None of all thy elder Sisters

         Peep from out these thorny vistas,

Happy vagrants rich in fragrance,

         Gipsying in their tangled bowers;

         Yet thou comest forth unshrinking,

         In thy utter loneness drinking

Paler non-light, chillier moon-light,

         Cooler dews and Autumn showers.

 

         Come with me my wild-wood Elfin!

         Take this couch to fold thyself in,

Where above thee, eyes that love thee

         Shall unfailing sunlight shed;

         Beauty’s youngest born is dearest;

         Life more prized when death is nearest;

Deepest bliss in in the kisses

         When the parting word is said!