Dora Sigerson Shorter

“ Then she sighed, with blue eyes tearful and quivering lips that smiled,
‘And to womanhood's perfection came the promise of the child.
But the rose and cowslip withered, and the poppy's death is nigh,
For the changing leaf that lingers there remains nought but to die.
Through the bitter winds of Winter let me shelter by thy side;
Prithee, stray not with the Autumn, O my love ! ”

“ And my sweet, I feared to meet her for my yesterday of scorn;
Then I flung myself beside her as she knelt amid the corn.
She only said: ’To red and gold grew the green young leaf of Spring.
The rose filled the dead cowslip's throne ”