A Basket Of Flowers - From Dawn To Dusk

Dawn     On skies still and starlit     White lustres take hold,     And grey flushes scarlet,     And red flashes gold.     And sun-glories cover     The rose shed above her,     Like lover and lover     They flame and unfold.     -    -    -    -    -     Still bloom in the garden     Green grass-plot, fresh lawn,     Though pasture lands harden     And drought fissures yawn.     While leaves not a few fall,     Let rose leaves for you fall,     Leaves pearl-strung with dew-fall,     And gold shot with dawn.     Does the grass-plot remember     The fall of your feet     In autumns red ember,     When drought leagues with heat,     When the last of the roses     Despairingly closes     In the lull that reposes     Ere storm winds wax fleet?     Loves melodies languish     In Chastelards strain,     And Abelards anguish     Is loves pleasant pain!     And Sappho rehearses     Loves blessings and curses     In passionate verses     Again and again.     And I! I have heard of     All these long ago,     Yet never one word of     Their song-lore I know;     Not under my finger     In songs of the singer     Loves litanies linger,     Loves rhapsodies flow.     Fresh flowers in a basket,     An offering to you,     Though you did not ask it,     Unbidden I strew;     With heat and drought striving,     Some blossoms still living     May render thanksgiving     For dawn and for dew.     The garlands I gather,     The rhymes I string fast,     Are hurriedly rather     Than heedlessly cast.     Yon trees shady awning     Is shortning, and warning     Far spent is the morning,     And I must ride fast.     Songs empty, yet airy,     Ive striven to write,     For failure, dear Mary!     Forgive me, Good-night!     Songs and flowers may beset you,     I can only regret you,     While the soil where I met you     Recedes from my sight.     For the sake of past hours,     For the love of old times,     Take A Basket of Flowers,     And a bundle of rhymes;     Though all the bloom perish     Een YOUR hand can cherish,     While churlish and bearish     The verse-jingle chimes.     And Eastward by Norward     Looms sadly my track,     And I must ride forward,     And still I look back,     Look back, ah, how vainly!     For while I see plainly,     My hands on the reins lie     Uncertain and slack.     The warm wind breathes strong breath,     The dust dims mine eye,     And I draw one long breath,     And stifle one sigh.     Green slopes, softly shaded,     Have flitted and faded,     My dreams flit as they did,     Good-night! and, Good-bye!     -    -    -    -    -     Dusk     Lost rose! end my story!     Dead core and dry husk,     Departed thy glory     And tainted thy musk.     Night spreads her dark limbs on     The face of the dim sun,     So flame fades to crimson     And crimson to dusk.