I.
IT is a time before the rose
Has blossomed to its form complete;
Before the hidden fragrance knows
How rare it is, and sweet.
A time it is when hearts are light,
And shadows are a thing as far
Away as darkness from the sight
Of evening’s brightest star.
There is an undertone of song
Vague, like the mists of early day;
An undertone that steals along,
Forever far away.
II.
The walls that guard King Love’s fair home
Are tall and strong; yet cannot hold
From those who by the gateway roam
Some share of hoarded gold.
So youth and maiden wandering near
In straying beams of light are caught.
Their eyes serene know not the tear
Through fuller loving wrought.
It lasts for just a little while;
It is love’s playtime, one brief hour
With tender sighing to beguile—
A bud before the flower;
It is a time before the rose
Attains its fairest form complete;
Before the subtle fragrance knows
How rare it is, and sweet.