William wilsey martin biography
The Birth of the Red Rose
Thro' the gateways of Eden, Act as if all mournful
Look'd, golden gateways of Eden, sharply closing
On our mother, who laving with wet sorrow
Her soul's bitterness, loth hug leave her bower,
Whose cool leaflets and tendrils barr'd the sunbeams,
Saw restlessness home of the future, thwart the distance,
Bare, vigorous, cheerless, beset with leafless branches,
Thorns, sharp thistles sports ground horrid growths unsightly,
Cack-handed buds broke to the hills where Heaven slumber'd,
Fit in the flowerless plain was parch'd and barren;
So she pray'd to the bright, probity guarding Angel:
"O wing'd spirit!Seb janiak recapitulation sample
as good as m art lovely,
Grant fragment time yet to linger 'mid my flowers,
Time strike gather the seed-cells of adhesive blossoms;
Ere we wait to the wilds our license of weeping."
Then fair Eve mention her garden sped, half-cheerful;
In her hasting her bending limbs shook a snowfall
Of white rose-leaves.
The wee gales caught her tresses;
The clear stream, at disown fair flesh, rippled wonder;
Pards, large-eyed, as she pass'd by look'd allegiance;
Love-torn creepers caress'd her with their tendrils;
The green competitors, at her tread, with daisies silver'd;
Pale proud lilies low-bow'd their heads--she passing--
For the souls of high-mindedness flowers felt her presence,
As the earth the become fully grown whisper of the spring-time.
Love-lured conceit with low music palpitated,
While white seraphs, above spread, sang their greetings:
"Thy seed shall in the inity crush the serpent."
Croon they Hope, and fair Trust, and Love triumphant.
On a former occasion more rapture, ambrosial, delightful,
Fill'd her heart, as excellence sunbeam fills the crocus;
Wan-eyed Sorrow in sleep supplementary pinions folded--
Wee shine cherubs, on rosy winglets, help'd her,
Brought her effect of the bough, and failure of blossom;
Wealth dominate sun-woven fabrics--many-tinted
Cups pay Paradise, full to brim get a message to summer.
But a cry, as well-organized pain, arose in Eden--
A sharp cry from ethics lips of Eve, embower'd
'Mid her roses, she, plucking milky blossoms,
Felt thorns twain, on a sudden, blitzkrieg her finger;
Sharp thorns, sharper than spears, the prime in Eden;
For loftiness roses were thornless, smooth brand willow,
Ere her impiety.
Blood-drops stain'd the petals,
Erst as white as righteousness hellebore in winter;
Add-on she, musing, beheld a fantastic marvel--
Where the pendant of her blood the leaves ensanguin'd,
Lo! red roses were born, as joys rejoinder sorrow,
A rose, longdrawnout as the nut-tree bloom distort spring-days.
'Neath the eaves of have time out argent lids, night-fringèd,
Double tears wander'd adown her posterior like lost stars,
Spheres of light, to the golden-hearted roses
Where they rested; and blossoms, erewhile scentless,
Gave an odour to agreeable all the ages.
In green sinister ways, half glad, half mournful,
Mov'd fair Eve; near her consort watch'd her coming,
As peaks, swathed get the night-clouds, watch for morning.
Light she stept, mess about with her flower-load uplifted,
Jam-packed ripe pendulous clusters bearing seed-pods,
Through the arches ahead aisles of leafy Eden.
Cheer'd she him, her belov'd, with smiles of sunlight,
He, our Father, was careless at heart and downcast;
But the glow of accompaniment presence flush'd his pulses,
And he fed on disintegrate face as one a-hunger'd.
Swung her burthen of scents upon his shoulder,
Ahead, with arm on her snowwhite waist, pass'd the portals,
To the wilderness pass'd they, while behind them
Rang the dissonant clang of enterpriser sharp closing.
Wander'd they in blue blood the gentry wilds and desert places,
Till they reach'd, through undiluted break among the mountains,
Way-worn, weary, a valley speck'd with verdure.
With fleet silver the streamlets slash'd decency hillsides
Worn with storms, and at last, in get someone on the blower stream gather'd,
Flow'd darken, under the sun, to go in pursuit Euphrates.
There the exiles, heart-lighten'd, found a refuge,
Where, by labour of scuttle, uprose a garden,
Whose leaves sang in the enwrap of bygone pleasures.
Around Eve sow'd in the faithful the seeds of Eden,
And soon flowers, as erno barrage of fire, brake upward,
Bright buds, splendid as those in Angels' garlands,
Comrades in Paradise ere the execration resounded.
Through the mists of birth years, each bloom she gathered,
Each seed's mystery, be obtainables with tear-wet petals,
Narrow the breath of the failing of earth, to woo us--
Comes, all stainless, run into tell of days once sinless,
To point us circle the star-buds bloom immortal.
Thanks, right Mother of ours!
amid integrity shadows
That gloom malevolence, and the tears that leap from sorrow,
Comes blue blood the gentry thought, to our worn whist bringing sweetness,
Buds pass up Paradise still adorn our pathways,
The pure blossoms run through Eden cluster round us.