Читать книгу Poems - French Nora May - Страница 4

AY, pluck a jonquil when the May’s a-wing!

Or please you with a rose upon the breast,

A sweeter violet chosen from the rest,

To match your mood with blue caprice of spring —

Leave windy vines a tendril less to swing.

Why, what’s a flower? A day’s delight at best,

A perfume loved, a faded petal pressed,

A whimsey for an hour’s remembering.

But wondrous careful must he draw the rose

From jealous earth, who seeks to set anew

Deep root, young leafage, with a gardener’s art —

To plant her queen of all his garden close,

And make his varying fancy wind and dew,

Cloud, rain, and sunshine for one woman’s heart.