(By Nora Hopper, in "Westminster Gazette.")
Do you call my face a rose,
"With the time of roses near?
Find a truer name than this
For the brow and lips you kiss.
For you know that roses die
In the autumn of the year,
And beside you, love, must I
Front the frost and face the snows.
I was never rose or star.
One's too near and one's too far;
I'm no pebble and no pearl.
But a living, loving girl,
Mouth to kiss you, hand to keep
Touch with you while you're asleep.
Eyes to kindle when you're glad,
Hope to climb where you would creep,
Tongue to comfort when you're sad.
Call me wife and comrade, dear,
Call me neither star nor rose;
Then the day I need not dread
"When the snow falls on my head.
Then my soul to yours shall be
Changeless, though my beauty goes,
And the eyes I love not see
Youth and grace forsaking me.
As the bees forsake a rose.
When the wind of autumn blows,
Soul on soul looks in and knows
All that's best of You and Me.
Notes
From the Victorian Newspaper The Bendigo Advertiser 14 Dec 1901 p. 7.
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