Toward man or woman, all unmissed. She knew she had no right to bind His friendship to her single wrist, So long as love was true and kind, And made her its monopolist, No time was grudged with jealous greed Which either books or friendship claimed. He was her friend, and she had need Of all--unhindered and unblamed That he could win, through word or deed. Her friend waxed great as grew the man; Her temple swelled as rose her priest-- With power to bless and right to ban-- And all who served him, most or least,-- From chorister and sacristan To those whose frankincense and myrrh Perfumed the sacred courts with alms,-- Were gracious ministers to her, Who found the largess in her palms, And him the friendly almoner. LOVE'S CONSUMMATIONS. The summer passed, the autumn came; The world swung over toward the night; The forests robed themselves in flame, Then faded slowly into white; And set within a crystal frame Of frozen streams, the shaggy boles Of oak and elm, with leafless crowns, Were painted stark upon the knolls; And cots and villages and towns On virgin canvas glowed like coals In tawny-red, or strove in vain To shame the white in which they stood. The fairest tint was but a stain Upon the snow, that quenched the wood, And paved the street, and draped the plain! II. Oh! Southern cheeks are quick to feel The magic finger of the frost; And Mildred heard but one long peal From the fierce Arctic, which embossed Her window-panes, and set the seal Of cold on all her eye beheld, When through her veins there swept new fire, And, in her answering bosom, swelled New purposes and new desire, And force to higher deeds impelled. Ah! well for her the languor cast That followed from her Southern clime! The time would come--was coming fast,-- Love's consummated, crowning time-- Of which her heart had antepast! A strange new life was in her breast; Her eyes were full of wondrous dreams; She sailed all whiles from crest to crest Of a broad ocean, through whose gleams She saw an island wrapped in rest! And as she drove across the sea, Toward the fair port that fixed her gaze, Her life was like a rosary, Whose slowly counted beads were days Of prayer for one that was to be! III. Oh roses, roses! Who shall sing The beauty of the flowers of God! Or thank the angel from whose wing The seeds are scattered on the sod From which such bloom and perfume spring! Sure they have heavenly genesis Which make a heaven of every place; Which company our bale and bliss, And never to our sinning race Speak aught unhallowed, or amiss! When love is grieved, their buds atone; When love is wed, their forms are near; They blend their breathing with the moan Of love when dying, and the bier Is white with them in every zone.