[Editor: This poem by Marie E. J. Pitt was published in The Horses of the Hills and Other Verses (1911).]
June Roses.
O Red Rose of June,
Like a lingering ember
From fires of December
Rekindled for boon,
When a wild afternoon
Like a grey ghost goes gliding
And creeping and hiding
From a sorrowful moon —
A reproachful white moon!
O Red Rose of pain,
Like the last spark that flashes
From smouldering ashes
Of love on the wane!
Thro’ the pitiless rain,
And the wind’s wistful sobbing
A dead march is throbbing
Again and again,
And for ever again.
O Red Rose new born,
Like a scimitar flaming
And flashing and shaming
Life’s fear and its scorn,
Levin love-lilt new torn
From storm-torrents sweeping
From fountain heads leaping
From lips of the morn —
Of Hope’s evergreen morn!
Rekindled for boon,
When the genii of sorrows
Of all the to-morrows
Combine and commune
In a wild rebel rune,
Bright symbol and token! —
Full foreword fain spoken! —
O Red Rose of June!
Brave Red Rose of June!
Source:
Marie E. J. Pitt, The Horses of the Hills and Other Verses, Melbourne: Specialty Press, 1911, pages 54-55
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