R5815-373 Poem: The Carol Of The “Bride”

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::R5815 : page 373::


Cant. 4:12-16.

The North Wind blows cold o’er my Garden today—
Its fierce blasts rush mad on their pitiless path;
The trees bend and sway in their giant grasp,
And cower and shrink from their furious wrath.

They plant their roots deep, and still deeper; their arms
Take on sinews of strength as they writhe in the blast.
O bitter North Wind, thy fury is vain!
For strength born of need brings the victory at last!

* * *

Today o’er my Garden the South Wind plays,
And gently it kisses the blossoms fair;
Their soft petals tremble in glad response,
And their perfume flows out on the quivering air.

The soft breeze caresses each glistening leaf,
It whispers a message to each blushing rose;
And sweet, timid violets look up at its touch—
The touch that only the South Wind knows.

It sings to the trees a low, murm’ring refrain,
And steals thro’ the branches with tremulous sigh;
They clap their soft hands as they dance in their glee,
For old Winter has fled and the Summer is nigh.

* * *

O South Wind, O North Wind, ye both brought rich gifts!
My fair flowers are sheltered, my trees great and strong!
And sweeter my blossoms, and richer my fruits;
To North Wind and South Wind I carol my song!

My Beloved has come to His Garden—and lo,
Sweet spices and perfumes and blossoms most fair,
And ripe, golden fruitage I lay at His feet!
What joy could be greater! What priv’lege so rare!

October 21, 1915. ALICE G. JAMES.


— December 15, 1915 —

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