Saturday, May 20, 2017


A ROSE-TREE, all ablush with opening flowers,
     Just nodded to the heliotrope and pink,
     Greeted the lilies by the fountain's brink
     And curtseyed toward the jasmine's star-wreathed bowers.
She then perceived a plant which, in the hours
     Since May-time blossoms blew and bobolink
     Sang blithely, constant grew, yet seemed to drink
     No beauty from spring sun or summer showers.
Scornful, she tossed her head, but soothingly
     Dame Nature to the plant dishonored said: "Time conquereth
     The proud.  Yon rose her petaled pomps shall see
Torn rudely by the Frost-King's icy breath,
     When life luxuriant shall throb in thee,
     And blossom in the very midst of death!"
"The Chrysanthemem" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Poems (1898).

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