Read Ebook: The Rose-Jar by Jones Thomas S Thomas Samuel

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 166 lines and 9718 words, and 4 pages

For in the Spring is such a bitter smart Even the thought of it will break my heart, So take me softly to a leafy bed Where I shall dream and dream you are not dead!

The Sport of a God

Though they say Jove laughs at the lover's vow-- At the lover's vow that must break some day-- Still we smiled as we loved in a distant May When the blooms were heavy upon the bough.

O, the mocking difference of then and now! It isn't a thought that will make one gay, Though they say Jove laughs at the lover's vow-- At the lover's vow that must break some day.

Yet, perhaps, the god knows the best way how To carry a mask when the feet are clay; So I too shall laugh at the merry play, For down in his heart there's a knife, I trow, Though they say Jove laughs at the lover's vow.

Remembrance

Sweet rosemary within the lane The while the day is warm and clear, And ne'er a thought of bitter rain Or the road-side sere.

But there are flowers more dear to me That time can never set apart-- The fragrant blooms of memory That grow within the heart.

In Days of Old

Of all the ages' gain, the ages' loss, A wealth of wonders and so much away-- When now hears one the woodland elves at play, Or angry dryads where tall tree-tops toss. No more they lightly tread the dewy moss As danced they through cool haunts in ecstasy; But rank and lost the paths in lone decay Where fairy footsteps once were wont to cross.

O, happy Greeks, who knew the gods so well, To you I burn my sacrificial fire! Again reveal the mystic hidden rune Whereby to find the slopes of asphodel-- Ah, then to hear Apollo charm his lyre And see Diana 'neath the sickle moon.

We Once Built a House o' Dreams

We once built a house o' dreams At the break o' day Made from out the first gold beams On the sward astray.

Little did we think or care 'Twas not safe nor strong; We were very happy there And the day was long.

Now we leave our house o' dreams, Why, we do not know; Only this--so strange it seems And so hard to go!

A Song of the Way

Give me the road, the great broad road, That wanders over the hill; Give me a heart without a care And a free, unfettered will-- Ah, thus to journey, thus to fare, With only the skies to frown, And happy I, if the ways but lie Away, away from the town.

Give me the path, the wild-wood path That wanders deep in a dell, Where silence sleeps and sunbeams fain Would waken the slumber spell-- For there the gods find the world again, Immortals of ancient lore, And time is gone, and a mad-glad faun Knows the glades of Greece once more.

In Trinity Church-Yard at Sunset

How still they sleep within the city moil In their old church-yard with its sighing trees, Where sometimes through the din a twilight breeze Makes one forget the busy streets of toil; But they have little thought of worldly spoil Or the great gain of mortal victories, Their hopes, their dreams, are cold and dead as these Quaint, time-worn gravestones crumbling on the soil.

Yet they once lived and struggled years ago; Their hearts beat madly as these hearts of ours-- And now is all undone in dreamless rest? See, a great city stands against the glow-- Their city, they who here beneath the flowers Have known so long God's gift of peace, most blest!

Where Cross-Roads Part

Glad roads of Spring--O lanes of laughing May As fleeting as the shadow-clouds at play With sunbeams rife upon the grassy green; O golden lanes--through roads that lie between Amid what darkened sweep lost I the way?

Or was't the stripling Youth, whose roundelay Awoke the echoes of the throbbing day And changed to gladness all the world's dull mien, Glad roads of Spring?

Apart I stand, distraught with lone dismay, No more Youth's gladsome biddings to obey, No more with him Love's strewings lost to glean; The hills of years now ever intervene, And bid me say good-bye to you for aye, Glad roads of Spring!

Saida

We passed along the high-road, you and I, Though I remember not the place nor when; Only the wonder of your face, and then That you passed by.

But that was long ago, and I forget; Perhaps 'twere better that I went alone, You might not e'er have loved me had you known, And yet, and yet--

In Arcady

Although 'tis but a memory, Still in the days of long ago We tended sheep in Arcady.

Then were we both of fancy free And laughing Youth had much to show, Although 'tis but a memory.

Again the pasture lands we see Where in the golden summer glow We tended sheep in Arcady.

And hear the tender harmony Of shepherd pipes that softly blow, Although 'tis but a memory.

Nor thought of any end had we As through the grasses to and fro We tended sheep in Arcady.

So, what if life now empty be, Of all the past this do we know, Although 'tis but a memory, We tended sheep in Arcady!

The Summer Rain

As one who listens to the summer rain Against the roof when all the night is still, Save for the wind beneath the window-sill, Crooning its homely, comforting refrain,-- And listening feels that neither joy nor pain Can trouble now--only the faint sweet thrill Of drowsiness and peace and rest until The barque glides softly into sleep's domain;

So I, whose empty way leads wandering Between high garden-walls that hide the sun, Hear sometimes on the breeze a simple strain Of an old song you once were wont to sing-- And then forgetting all, I seem as one Who listens spell-bound to the summer rain.

Impression

A little stone o'ercrept with moss, And red wild roses flaunting by, A wistful breeze that seems to sigh Where the tall grasses toss.

To sigh for one who went away, Thus it is writ upon the stone-- Nothing can ever make atone And tears shall fall for aye.

Oh, irony of human vow, Even the stone is crumbling too, And tears,--none save the evening dew, For who remembers now?

Derelicts

A year, a year, and then to miss That which was all in all for aye; O Love as fleeting as your kiss, O Love forever and a day, To this.

How such a change in one short year, I cannot, cannot understand; Oh, why to cast upon Love's bier, Whose name was written in the sand, This tear?

Why, when the fields were red with May When you and I together swore; Is May so very far away, Was all so different then, before Today?

And did the gods above then smile When we believed that love would last, Counting its heart-beats on the dial Of hours that have too soon slipped past, The while.

Two boats upon a sea of glass-- A little strength, a little trust; Yet let the hand of Fate but pass, Could they withstand the storm-cloud's gust, Alas!

So, though not knowing, yet must I Forget one day and feel no more Your love, which dreamed not e'er to die. Thank God for that--I close my door. Good-bye.

The End of the Day

The day is done and every hour is spent And now it lies a-dying in the west, Yet with what wonder those last moments blest Crown all with the chaste kiss of sweet content; For nature's minstrels sing a carol pent With the soft music of the spheres suppressed In one great strain--the while upon night's breast The dying day sinks down in languishment.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet