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Article ONLY A CHRISTMAS ROSE. Page 1 of 2 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Only A Christmas Rose.
ONLY A CHRISTMAS ROSE .
( Written for the Masonic Magazine . ) FAR from the land where the mist o ' er tbe river Settles in gloom on the sad winter day , AVhere the cold Avinds made us cower and shiver , Thinking of sunny homes so far away .
Yon little maid and I caught in the northern blast , Hurried along where the waterfall throws Myriads of rainbow tints up in Avhite vapour cast , Scattering foam blossoms , on its way goes .
AVhat Avas it made me think , looking down on you then , Searching the depths of those dreamy brown eyes , That life without you Avould ever be worthless , Avhen AVith you such visions of joy could arise 1
Ah ! Avell I know not , but winter sounds pipe so loud ; Cold beats tbe SUOAV upon my little Rose , Who nestling close to me and . with her head loAvly bowed , Happily homewards she on her way goes .
Out by the river side , out in the bleak north wind , Angel of mercy my bright one has been ; Taking a dinner to one loAvly sinner Who lives iu the cottage away down the dene .
A poor stricken mortal whom men had forsaken ; A castaway thrown on a desolate shore;—Who hopeless , and faithless , by Death Avas near taken , And lost in this Avorld and the next
evermore . Put my Rose had found him , one summer day ' s ramble , An old man and -veary with life ' s heavy chain ;
A past that was best forgot , future he heeded not , Present that Avas but one dreary Avith pain . And she , the poor Curate ' s fair only
daughter , Pitied the SOITOAVS and trials of the poor ; And often she wandered , and deeply she pondered , How to give help from her own little store .
Ah I well I bless tbe day Avhich then sent me that Avay , Aimlessly roaming by sweet Orwell ' s side ; Only on pleasure bent , careless Avhich path I Avent , Thinking of self Avhate ' er might betide .
This little minist ' ring angel who trod the path Of life and of duty in so pure a Avay , Shamed me out of myself and thoughts of the aftermath—Came to me and shall stay by me alway .
My little Rose has made me think of others ; Taught me that duty is now first of all ; How pleasure like beauty is fleeting , they ' re brothers , And to the true man they must ever soon pall .
Midst blushes that make her sweet face look far SA \ eeter , She owns that one summer-tide not long ago , She thought that some distant time—what could be meeter ? Fate , might be propitious , she loved me % —Ah no !
And I , Avell I ' m free to own once when I saAV her , . Coming from church with her father one day , T sketched the charming face , striving to catch the grace Of the bright Avinsome look , that o ' er it did play .
And now she has promised some day that is far aAvay , If I will wait for her she Avill be mine ; But father is old and him she must still obey , 2 i 2
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Only A Christmas Rose.
ONLY A CHRISTMAS ROSE .
( Written for the Masonic Magazine . ) FAR from the land where the mist o ' er tbe river Settles in gloom on the sad winter day , AVhere the cold Avinds made us cower and shiver , Thinking of sunny homes so far away .
Yon little maid and I caught in the northern blast , Hurried along where the waterfall throws Myriads of rainbow tints up in Avhite vapour cast , Scattering foam blossoms , on its way goes .
AVhat Avas it made me think , looking down on you then , Searching the depths of those dreamy brown eyes , That life without you Avould ever be worthless , Avhen AVith you such visions of joy could arise 1
Ah ! Avell I know not , but winter sounds pipe so loud ; Cold beats tbe SUOAV upon my little Rose , Who nestling close to me and . with her head loAvly bowed , Happily homewards she on her way goes .
Out by the river side , out in the bleak north wind , Angel of mercy my bright one has been ; Taking a dinner to one loAvly sinner Who lives iu the cottage away down the dene .
A poor stricken mortal whom men had forsaken ; A castaway thrown on a desolate shore;—Who hopeless , and faithless , by Death Avas near taken , And lost in this Avorld and the next
evermore . Put my Rose had found him , one summer day ' s ramble , An old man and -veary with life ' s heavy chain ;
A past that was best forgot , future he heeded not , Present that Avas but one dreary Avith pain . And she , the poor Curate ' s fair only
daughter , Pitied the SOITOAVS and trials of the poor ; And often she wandered , and deeply she pondered , How to give help from her own little store .
Ah I well I bless tbe day Avhich then sent me that Avay , Aimlessly roaming by sweet Orwell ' s side ; Only on pleasure bent , careless Avhich path I Avent , Thinking of self Avhate ' er might betide .
This little minist ' ring angel who trod the path Of life and of duty in so pure a Avay , Shamed me out of myself and thoughts of the aftermath—Came to me and shall stay by me alway .
My little Rose has made me think of others ; Taught me that duty is now first of all ; How pleasure like beauty is fleeting , they ' re brothers , And to the true man they must ever soon pall .
Midst blushes that make her sweet face look far SA \ eeter , She owns that one summer-tide not long ago , She thought that some distant time—what could be meeter ? Fate , might be propitious , she loved me % —Ah no !
And I , Avell I ' m free to own once when I saAV her , . Coming from church with her father one day , T sketched the charming face , striving to catch the grace Of the bright Avinsome look , that o ' er it did play .
And now she has promised some day that is far aAvay , If I will wait for her she Avill be mine ; But father is old and him she must still obey , 2 i 2