136 THE MARCH OF THE SEASONS 



Roses that down the alley shine afar, 

 And open, jasmine-muffled lattices, 

 And groups under the dreaming garden-trees, 



And the full moon, and the white evening-star. 



MATTHEW ARNOLD. 



A SONG 



WHEN the roses blow, 



Man looks for brighter hours ; 



When the roses glow, 



Hope relights her lampless bowers. 



Much that seemed, in winter gloom, 



Dark with heavy woe, 



Wears a gladsome hue and bloom 



When the roses blow ! 



When the roses blow, 



Love that slept shall wake anew ; 



Merrier blood shall flow 



Through the springald's veins of blue. 



And if sorrow wrang the heart, 



Even that shall go : 



Pain and mourning must depart 



When the roses blow, 



When the roses blow ; 



Pain and mourning must depart 



When the roses blow ! 



When the roses blow, 



Look to heaven, my fainting soul : 



There, in stainless show, 



Spreads the veil that hides thy goal. 



