The Book of the Rose

by Charles G.D. Roberts




How little I knew, when I first saw you,
And your eyes for a moment questioned mine,
It amounted to this,—that the dawn and the dew,
The midnight's dark, and the midnoon's shine,
The awe of the silent, soaring peak,

The harebell's blue, and the cloud in the blue,
And all the beauty I sing and seek,
Would come to mean—just you!

Yet I might have known; for that one deep look
Which you gave me from under your hat's low brim

Months afterward in my memory shook
And made my pulses swim.
It will burn in my heart the long years through;
And when this life of the flesh is done
I will open my heart and show it to you
In the world beyond the sun.