Poem by Menella Bute Smedley

* * *

I went to look for roses
When snow was on the ground,
Alas, a wither'd thorn-bush
Was all the flowers I found!
I thought of summer-blossoms
Alight with dews of morn,
And down I sate me weeping
Beside the barren thorn.
Out spake a grey-hair'd neighbour,—
“O madness! not to know
The time of living roses
Is not the time of snow.”
Fie on such foolish comfort!
It never dried one tear;
I am weeping for my roses
Because they are not here.

1. Song (Take me from these dreary shades)
2. Windy and Grey Morning
3. The Little Fair Soul
4. Once
5. Hunting the Wind

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