Rosa Rea Poem by Joseph Skipsey

The following was suggested by a sweet little
lyric, entitled 'Resolution,' translated from the
German of Uhland.


THE sun is in the western sky
And thro' the barley, she—
Comes she, the apple of my eye,
The rose-cheeked Rosa Rea.

Away I slink the maid to meet,
As if I went away,
Alone to please a pair of feet
Resolved to go astray.

I whistle as I go, tho' what
I cannot tell, but know
Right well my heart goes pit-a-pat
With every note I blow.

Anon, I, silent as the path
Whereon I tread become,
The power to blow my whistle, hath
Ta'en wing and left me dumb.

The lark's loud lilt so bright and clear
Is ringing in the sky;
A dearer tune I hear—I hear
Two little feet draw nigh.

Two feet I hear approaching near
—Abashed I hing my head—
Two little feet a hornpipe beat,
Or isn't my heart instead?

A floweret I of scarlet dye
Espy as on I tread;
The maid who trips this way hath lips—
Two lips of richer red.

A floweret I hard by espy,
A gem of azure hue;
The maid who hies this way hath eyes—
Two eyes of sweeter blue.

Those tiny blooms my heart might steal,
Did not a spell profound
Now gar my mortal reason reel,
Or gar the world go round.

My senses swim, my sight grows dim,
A-near, more near her tread—
Her little feet a hornpipe beat,
Or isn't my heart instead?

Ah, am I moving on my feet?
Or am I on my head?
Do airy dreams my senses cheat?
Am I alive or dead?

Not dead! away, that notion, nay,
Not in a dream I move;
Lo, in the clear bright pool I hear
I see my own dear love.

She nears—appears a blink uprears
My head—O joy!—ah see!
Till night's o'erhead, locked hand in hand
Stand I, and—Rosa Rea!