Pine, Rose and Fleur de Lis

by Susie Frances Harrison




A yellow moon shines
              On the inturned breast of Nuphar,
              She the golden river lily;
              On the wedding ring of the bride
              Glowing with love, adoring in happy pride;
On the hair above the brows of innocent childhood;
On the rustling corn of far away in a meadow;
On the gleaming coin which fell in the shadow;
On the cloth of gold of a king;
On the tender midnight blossoming
Of briar-bud to rose.

A wan white moon shines
              On a lily they took from the river,
              Larger and whiter than all the rest.
              Trampled and soiled is its delicate breast.

              On the satin and snowy robe
She will wear on the morrow,
Who will loathe to be called a wife;
What sorrow is like to her sorrow?
On the stiffening, straggling gray-white locks
Of the old man murdered;
On the pale ones who long for bread;
On the silver snake round the arm of a woman
Who longs in her soul to be dead;
On the shroud of a young new mother and babe;
On the shedding of blossoms and tears
O’er the mound and the marble.