Thomas Emmet Dewey.

 
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THE ROSE'S MESSAGE.

 
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I saw her stroll alone in evening's shade, 
    And with a torn rose stem she slowly traced, 
    upon a mossy wall, With lichens graced, 
Some careful words. By her dear presence stayed, 
I sought the meaning that the rose conveyed. 
    So stealing near, with footsteps lightly placed, 
    I held her close in loving arms embraced, 
And read the message as she stood dismayed. 
Ah! what a joyful tale it told to me, 
    Though tender eyes had hinted oft the same! 
It filled my heart with rapturous ecstacy, 
    Thus dimly etched beneath my lowly name; 
It was in very truth Fate's fond decree, 
    For rudely written there, I read, "Je t'aime." 
 
HIS PLEADING^__RONDEAU. 
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Dear ones 't is sweet for me to trace 
Upon thy tender, wistful face, 
      With glistening tears of sorrow wet, 
      But like a pearl with diamonds set, 
A love that seems like Heaven's own grace. 
(43)