Poems (Becker)/The Blue Rose

THE BLUE ROSE. "Il n'y a eu la qu'une rose bleue; c'est à dire, une rose que l'on rêve, que l'on respire, mais que l'on ne cueille jamais."

"FAIR are the flowers you hold, my child,
But far on the heights, amid the blue,
There groweth the fairest rose,
With petals of heavenly hue."
"And hast thou seen it, my nurse, I pray?"
"Nay, little lordling, I 'm common clay.
Those who but see it in dreams, I know,
See never more the flowers below;
For him who but breathes its faint perfume,
A joy ineffable doth bloom."
"Then, nurse,no other rose for me!"
"Nay and alas, my child!" said she.

Far up the heights he climbed,
In the blushing morn;
The rose he grasped with eager hand
Flushed as the dawn.

On a snowy crest he stood,
Alone in the mid-day light;
And the rose he wore upon his breast
Was pure and white.

The weary feet toiled on;
At the sunset's golden flood,
The rose he held in his fevered hand
Was red as blood.

Sung the dying child,
At the midnight hour:
"He must climb to dizzier heights than I,
Who plucks the fabled flower.
O fair pale rose, and blushing rose,
Rose with the heart of fire,
Ye all were fair, yet your beauty fades
To the rose of my desire."

Bending low 'neath her weight of years,
The old nurse muttered through her tears:
"As the finger of Death thine eyelids close,
Thou seest at last the accursed rose."