332 
POEMS 
A JAR OF ROSE-LEAVES 
Myriap roses fade unheeded, 
Yet no note of grief is needed ; 
When the ruder breezes tear them, 
Sung or songless, we can spare them. 
But the choicest petals are 
Shrined in some deep Orient jar, 
Rich without and sweet within, 
Where we cast the rose-leaves in. 
Life has jars of costlier price 
Framed to hold our memories. 
There we treasure baby smiles, 
Boyish exploits, girlish wiles, 
All that made our early days 
Sweeter than these trodden ways 
Where the Fates our fortunes spin. 
Memory, toss the rose-leaves in ! 
What the jar holds, that shall stay ; 
Time steals all the rest away. 
Cast in love’s first stolen word, 
Bliss when uttered, bliss when heard ; 
Maiden’s looks of shy surprise ; 
Glances from a hero’s eyes ; 
Palms we risked our souls to win : 
Memory, fling the rose-leaves in! 
