Franklin And Other Poems

o worshipped, worship still; The music lingers in our ears ; The magic tones our senses thrill, With echoes borne from distant years, With jealous eyes we watch the throne, Still vacant in the gorgeous scene ; And deem the sceptre still thy own, Till Song shall crown as great a queen. THE DESERTED GARDEN. Ye roses, wherefore do ye bloom so fair To wither on the icy heart of earth ; There comes no hand to pluck your blossoms rare, Nor eye to see, nor tongue to praise your worth ; In these dull paths, by no steps visited, The swift hours slumber, Time and Life seem dead. But every flower more crimson seemed to flush, The heavy air a softer fragrance filled, And through the silent garden's burning hush, A whisper went, that all my being thrilled : ' We breathe and bloom in our appointed spot, And wait Love's coming, though he heed us not.' WINTER. The world grew fairer still, but he Was feebler day by day ; Old Winter looked, and sighed to see His kingdom pass away. The rivers glided from his grasp; The fields forsook his thrall: The winds his palace gates unclasp, And loose his bondsmen all. No vain lament he made to show The loss of friends and throne, And yield derision to his foe, But wandered forth alone. And Summer came, with vauntful heart He hastened, well content To see the grey old King depart, And jeered him as he went. He summoned all his comrades gay, They came,...