File:The golden treasury of American songs and lyrics (1905) (14776383754).jpg

Identifier: goldentreasuryof00know (find matches)
Title: The golden treasury of American songs and lyrics
Year: 1905 (1900s)
Authors: Knowles, Frederic Lawrence, 1869-1905, ed
Subjects: American poetry
Publisher: Boston, L. C. Page & company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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kened As I nightly climbed apace,And could scarce restrain the blossoms When, anear the destined place,Her gentle whisper thrilled me Ere I gazed upon her face. I waited, darkling, till the dawn Should touch me into bloom.While all my being panted To outpour its first perfume,When, lo ! a paler flower than mine Had blossomed in the gloom ! J. B. Tabb. 235 AMERICAN SONGS AND LYRICS. t^e gouge of ®eaf9. Vr OT a hand has lifted the latchet Since she went out of the door-No footstep shall cross the threshold,Since she can come in no more. There is rust upon locks and hinges,And mold and blight on the walls. And silence faints in the chambers.And darkness waits in the halls — Waits as all things have waitedSince she went, that day of spring, Borne in her pallid splendor To dwell in the Court of the King: With lilies on brow and bosom,With robes of silken sheen, And her wonderful, frozen beauty,The lihes and silk between. Red roses she left behind her.But they died long, long ago — 236
Text Appearing After Image:
LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON THE HOUSE OF DEATH. Twas the odorous ghost of a blossomThat seemed through the dusk to glow. The garments she left mock the shadows With hints of womanly grace,And her image swims in the mirror That was so used to her face. The birds make insolent musicWhere the sunshine riots outside, And the winds are merry and wantonWith the summers pomp and pride. But into this desolate mansion,Where Love has closed the door, Nor sunshine nor summer shall enter,Since she can come in no more. L. C. MOULTON 237 AMERICAN SONGS AND LYRICS. ^ Ztopicai (gtorning at ^ea^ QKY in its lucent splendor lifted Higher than cloud can be ;Air with no breath of earth to stain it,Pure on the perfect sea. Crests that touch and tilt each other, Jostling as they comb;Delicate crash of tinkling water, Broken in pearling foam. Flashings — or is it the pinewoods whispers, Babble of brooks unseen,Laughter of winds when they find the blossoms Brushing aside the green ? Waves that dip, and dash, an

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