| Poems by Women |
THE DARK MAN
Rose o' the World, she came to my bed
And changed the dreams of my heart
and head;
For joy of mine she left grief of hers,
And garlanded me with a
crown of furze.
Rose o' the World, they go out and in,
And watch me dream and my mother
spin;
And they pity the tears on my sleeping face
While my soul's away in
a fairy place.
Rose o' the World, they have words galore,
And wide's the swing of my
mother's door:
And soft they speak of my darkened eyes -
But what do they
know, who are all so wise?
Rose o' the World, the pain you give
Is worth all days that a man may live
-
Worth all shy prayers that the colleens say
On the night that darkens
the wedding-day.
Rose o' the World, what man would wed
When he might dream of your face
instead?
Might go to the grave with the blessed pain
Of hungering after
your face again?
Rose o' the World, they may talk their fill,
For dreams are good, and my
life stands still
While their lives' red ashes the gossips stir;
But my
fiddle knows - and I talk to her.
Nora Hopper [1871-1906]
From: Stevenson, Burton Egbert.
The Home Book of Verse.
This poet:
[Author index]
This collection assembled by Jone Johnson Lewis.
Collection © 1999-2002 Jone Johnson Lewis.
Citing poems from these pages:
| Author. "Poem Title." Women's History: Poems by Women. Jone Johnson Lewis, editor. URL: (date of logon) |
