Rose Hartwick Thorpe Poems

Slowly England's sun was setting o'er the hilltops far away,
Filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day;
And its last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden fair ―
He with steps so slow and weary; she with sunny, floating hair;
...

Take a seat in the shade here, lady;
It's tiresome, I know, to wait;
But when the train reaches Verona
It's always sure to be late, ―
...

''Tis the last time, darling,' he gently said,
As he kissed her lips like the cherries red,
While a fond look shone in his eyes of brown:
'My own is the prettiest girl in town.
...

In the deepening shades of twilight
Stood a maiden, young and fair;
Rain-drops gleamed on cheek and forehead,
Rain-drops glistened in her hair.
...

'My Fred! I can't understand it,'
And his voice quivered with pain,
While the tears kept slowly dropping
On his trembling hands like rain.
...

Two student lads one morning met
Under the blue-domed Texas skies;
Strangers by birth and station, yet
Youth's heart lies close beneath youth's eyes.
...

Sunset.

A ball of fire suspended
Low o'er a molten sea;
...

'Madam, we miss the train at B_____.'
'But can't you make it, sir?' she gasped.
'Impossible! it leaves at three,
And we are due a quarter past.'
...

A legend of the fuchsia.

Clasping her close in his strong young arms,
As his blue eyes met her own,
...

They stand in the shadow which darkly falls
When the Day-god sleeps in his glory,
Shut in by the gloom of the Alamo walls,
Those heroes who live in Fame's story.
...