The Wreath Of Forest Flowers.

In a fair and sunny forest glade
    O'erarched with chesnuts old,
Through which the radiant sunbeams made
    A network of bright gold,
A girl smiled softly to herself,
    And dreamed the hours away;
Lulled by the sound of the murmuring brook
    With the summer winds at play.

Jewels gleamed not in the tresses fair
    That fell in shining showers,
Naught decked that brow of beauty rare
    But a wreath of forest flowers;
And the violet wore no deeper blue
    Than her own soft downcast eye,
Whilst her bright cheek with the rose's hue
    In loveliness well might vie.

But she was too fair to bloom unknown
    By forest or valley side,
And long ere two sunny years had flown,
    The girl was a wealthy bride -
Removed to so high and proud a sphere
    That she well at times might deem
The humble home of her childhood dear
    A fleeting, changeful dream.

No more her foot sought the grassy glade
    At the break of summer day;
No more neath the chesnut spreading shade
    In reverie sweet she lay;
But in abodes of wealth and pride,
    With serious, stately mien,
That envy's rancorous tongue defied,
    She now alone was seen.

But was she happier? Who might know?
    Wealth, fortune, on her smiled;
Yet there were some who whispered low
    That she, fates favored child,
Oft pressed her brow with a weary hand,
    In gay and festive hours,
And fain would change her jewell'd band
    For a wreath of forest flowers.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon was a Canadian poet and novelist known for her contributions to Canadian literature in the 19th century. She wrote several novels and numerous poems, often focusing on themes of love, identity, and cultural conflicts. Leprohon's work is notable for its exploration of Canadian identity and bilingual heritage as she wrote in both English and French.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

To My Husband On Our Wedding-Day.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, Simple Poetry

Sea-Shore Musings.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, Simple Poetry

Our Saviour And The Samaritan Woman At The Well.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, Simple Poetry

The Emigrant's Address To America.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, Simple Poetry

English

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The Bride Of A Year.

She stands in front of her mirror
    With bright and joyous air,
Smoothes out with a skilful hand
    Her waves of golden hair;
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    So changing yet so bright,
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To-morrow is her bridal day,
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The Wood Fairy's Well.

"Thou hast been to the forest, thou sorrowing maiden,
    Where Summer reigns Queen in her fairest array,
Where the green earth with sunshine and fragrance is laden,
    And birds make sweet music throughout the long day.
Each step thou hast taken has been over flowers,
    Of forms full of beauty - of perfumes most rare,
Why comest thou home, then, with footsteps so weary,
    No smiles on thy lip, and no buds in thy hair?"

"Ah! my walk through the wild-wood has been full of sadness,
    My thoughts were with him who there oft used to rove,
That stranger with bright eyes and smiles full of gladness
    Who first taught my young heart the power of love.
He had promised to come to me ere the bright summer
    With roses and sunshine had decked hill and lea.
I, simp...

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The Transplanted Rose Tree.

Amid the flowers of a garden glade
    A lovely rose tree smiled,
And the sunbeams shone, the zephyrs played,
    'Round the gardens favorite child;
And the diamond dew-drops glistening fell
    On each rose's silken vest,
Whilst light winged bee and butterfly gay
    On the soft leaves loved to rest.

But one morn while a sunbeam bright
    Lit up its delicate bloom,
And a zephyr lightly hovered 'round,
    On wings of sweet perfume,
A strong hand came, and ruthlessly
    Tore up the parent tree,
And bore it off, with each fair young rose,
    From butterfly, zephyr and bee.

What mattered it that an antique vase
    Of Sèvres costly and old,
Was destined, henceforth, in royal State,
    Its fair young form to hold?
What m...

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To A Beautiful Child On Her Birthday, With A Wreath Of Flowers.

Whilst others give thee wond'rous toys,
    Or jewels rich and rare,
I bring but flowers - more meet are they
    For one so young and fair.

'Tis not because that snowy brow
    Might with the lily vie,
Or violet match the starry glance
    Of that dark, lustrous eye;

Nor yet because a brighter blush
    E'en rose leaf never wore,
But 'tis that in their leaves lies hid
    A rare and mystic lore.

And with its aid I now shall form
    A wreath of flow'rets wild -
Graceful, and full of meaning sweet,
    To deck thy brow, fair child!

The primrose, first, the emblem fit
    Of budding, early youth;
The daisy in whose leaves we read
    Pure innocence and truth.

The rosebud, sign of youthful charms,
    We wel...

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The Young Greek Odalisque.

'Mid silken cushions, richly wrought, a young Greek girl reclined,
And fairer form the harem's walls had ne'er before enshrined;
'Mid all the young and lovely ones who round her clustered there,
With glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, she shone supremely fair.

'Tis true that orbs as dark as hers in melting softness shone,
And lips whose coral hue might vie in brightness with her own;
And forms as light as ever might in Moslem's heaven be found,
So full of beauty's witching grace, were lightly hovering round.

Yet, oh, how paled their brilliant charms before that beauteous one
Who, 'mid their gay mirth, silent sat, from all apart - alone,
Outshining all, not by the spells of lovely face or form,
But by the soul that shone through all, her peerless, priceless charm.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Roses Of June.

She sat in the cottage door, and the fair June moon looked down
On a face as pure as its own, an innocent face and sweet
As the roses dewy white that grow so thick at her feet,
White royal roses, fit for a monarch's crown.

And one is clasped in her slender hand, and one on her bosom lies,
And two rare blushing buds loop up her light brown hair,
Ah, roses of June, you never looked on a face so white and fair,
Such perfectly moulded lips, such sweet and heavenly eyes.

This low-walled home is dear to her, she has come to it to-day
From the lordly groves of her palace home afar,
But not to stay; there's a light on her brow like the light of a star,
And her eyes are looking beyond the earth, far, far away.

She was born in this cottage home, the sweetest rosebud of sp...

Marietta Holley