Song : "The New-Born Leaves Unfolding Fast"
The new-born leaves unfolding fast
Make nests of green on every bough;
The pilgrim birds, their wanderings past,
With joy return,—but thou, my love,
Oh, where, my love, art thou?
Soft tumults fill the balmy air,
Faint breathings of the flowers to be;
Life glows and gladdens everywhere,—
But I am lone for thee, my love,
Oh, lone, my love, for thee!
Give me the voice of moaning pines,
The frozen wold, the wind-worn space;
Give me the winter Earth resigns,—
But let me see thy face, my love,
Oh, let me see thy face!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Valentine
Fear not that I shall tell the world,
O lady mine, how sweet thou art,
Fear not that others so shall gain
The secret of my heart;
For though my lips should carol praise
From night till morn, from morn till eve,
Thy loveliness, O lady mine,
Who had not known could not believe!
To praise the rose is not to paint
Its perfume, in the air afloat;
No words can voice the violet,
Or trill the throstle's note;
Nor may I fondly hope in song
Thy mystic graces to impart,—
Who hath not known thee, lady mine,
Will never dream how sweet thou art!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Song : "Her Cheek is Like a Tinted Rose"
Her cheek is like a tinted rose
That June hath fondly cherished,
Her heart is like a star that glows
When day hath darkling perished,
Her voice is as a song-bird's sweet,
The drowsy wolds awaking—
But, ah, her love is past compare,
And keeps my heart from breaking!
Lost sunbeams light her tresses free,
Along their shadows gleaming,
Her smiles entangle memory
And set the soul a-dreaming,
Her thoughts, like seraphs, upward soar,
Earth's narrow bounds forsaking—
But, ah, her love abides with me
And keeps my heart from breaking!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ditty: "My True Love's Eyes"
My true-love's eyes are a surprise
To put an end to ranging;
They vary so,—come weal, come woe,—
One can but watch their changing!
Sometimes they shine with light divine,—
Twin deeps where moonbeams hover,—
Anon they seem like stars agleam,
With laughter brimming over.
My true-love's mouth is as the south
In time of blossom, sunny;
A rose, in death, bequeathed it breath,
And bees have lent it honey.
But oh, her heart is still the art,
The magic fresh and living,
That wins the free her slaves to be
By its own gift of giving!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Too Late
The words of love I never said to thee
I whisper now,
The tenderness I might have given thee
I offer now,
As at thy feet, who hopeless knelt to me,
I, hopeless, bow.
The wintry bush in yonder hedgerow growing,
A rose adorns,
And near and far are snowy clusters blowing,
Where late were thorns;
But still my heart, nor bud nor blossom knowing,
Unpitied mourns.
I see the bird that to his mate is winging—
His mate so dear
The very heart within his breast is singing
As he draws near,
And I, O love, too late my love am bringing—
Thou dost not hear!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Dreyfus
France has no dungeon in her island tomb
So deep that she may hide injustice there;
The cry of innocence, despite her care,—
Despite her roll of drums, her cannon's boom,—
Is heard wherever human hearts have room
For sympathy: a sob upon the air,
Echoed and reëchoed everywhere,
It swells and swells, a prophecy of doom.
Thou latest victim of an ancient hate!
In agony so awfully alone,
The world forgets thee not, nor can forget:
Such martyrdom she feels to be her own,
And sees involved in thine her larger fate;
She questions, and thy foes shall answer yet.
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Coronation—To King Edward VII
If thou be crowned, or if thou be not crowned
With that imperial round
Thy forbears from the distant ages wore,
Sorrow and suffering for thee have earned
A guerdon fairer than thy hope discerned;
And through renunciation, thou hast found
A cirque of sovereignty not dreamed before.
If thou be crowned? Nay, thou art crowned now;
For, lo! upon thy brow,
So lately shadowed by Death's mournful wing,
A mighty people's sympathy has laid
An aureole whose brightness shall not fade:
Whose light, more worth than chrism, or seal, or vow,
Sceptre or throne, makes thee, indeed, a King!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Song : "For Me the Jasmine Buds Unfold"
For me the jasmine buds unfold
And silver daisies star the lea,
The crocus hoards the sunset gold,
And the wild rose breathes for me.
I feel the sap through the bough returning,
I share the skylark's transport fine,
I know the fountain's wayward yearning,
I love, and the world is mine!
I love, and thoughts that sometime grieved,
Still well remembered, grieve not me;
From all that darkened and deceived
Upsoars my spirit free.
For soft the hours repeat one story,
Sings the sea one strain divine;
My clouds arise all flushed with glory,—
I love, and the world is mine!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Survival
The knell that dooms the voiceless and obscure
Stills Memnon's music with its ghostly chime;
Strength is as weakness in the clasp of Time,
And for the things that were there is no cure.
The vineyard with its fair investiture,
The mountain summit with its hoary rime,
The throne of Cæsar, Cheops' tomb sublime,
Alike decay, and only dreams endure.
Dreams for Assyria her worship won,
And India is hallowed by her dreams;
The Sphinx with deathless visage views the race
That like the lotus of a summer seems,
And, rudderless, immortally sails on
The wingèd Victory of Samothrace.
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Love Has No Foes
Love has no foes; where'er he goes
Conditions full of mildness meet,
And amber honey-cells are filled,
And little birds begin to build,
And blossoms gather at his feet,—
Love is so sweet!
Love has no foes; the folded rose
That answering his smile's caress
Blows into beauty, with its heart
All bruised to fragrance by his art,
To every breeze doth still confess
His loveliness!
Love has no foes; who only knows
What Love hath been when Love is fled,
E'en he, bereft, would follow him,
Though to the voiceless caverns dim
Of the wan city of the Dead,
And share his bed!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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