To the White Julienne

The white Julienne remains the flower of Marie Antoinette.
- ALPHONSE KARR


Again above thy fragile flowers
I bend, to bring their perfume nigh;
For only in the evening hours
Thy odors pass thy blossoms by;
But when the ministering day
Deserts thee with the warmth and light
That lulled thee, waking thou wilt pay
For these, in sweetness, to the night.

O flower of Marie Antoinette!
Ungrateful to the lavish day,
Refusing it thy fragrance, yet
Relenting in such generous way,
Perchance, like thee, while life was bright
Her soul no holy savour shed,
Yet scattered incense when griefs night
Wept dews of blood upon her head!

I bend, to bring thy perfume near,
Again, I cannot leave the spot;
Damp walls and prison gloom are here!
The beauties of the garden-plot
Are gone, save thee, White Julienne,
Fond-handled by the fated queen!
I hear her sigh above thee, then
The sentrys tread behind the screen!

Mary Hannay Foott

Mary Hannay Foott was an Australian poet known for her works that capture the spirit and landscape of colonial Australia. Her most famous poem, 'Where the Pelican Builds', reflects the challenges and beauty of the pioneering experience. She was notable for being one of the first Australian poets to gain recognition, with her works regularly published in Australian newspapers and magazines of the time. Her poetry often explored themes of nature, human perseverance, and the Australian identity.

Mary Hannay Foott

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Mary Hannay Foott, Simple Poetry

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Quiet form of silent nun,
What has given you to my inward eyes?
What has marked you, unknown one,
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That mine ears do listen through?
This old master's melody
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Quiet form of silent nun,
What has given you to my inward eyes?
What has marked you, unknown one,
In the throngs of centuries
That mine ears do listen through?
This old master's melody
That expresses you,
This admired simplicity,
Tender, with a serious wit,
And two words, the name of it,
'Soeur Monique.'

And if sad the music is,
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Lines Written At Fredensborg, The Deserted Palace Of The Late Queen Dowager Juliana Maria [A].

Bless'd are the steps of Virtue's queen!
Where'er she moves fresh roses bloom;
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That love to dew the willow green
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But, ah! no willing mourner here
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So sullen seems the wind to blow?

How mournful was the lonely bird,
Within yon dark neglected grove!
Say, was it fancy? From its throat
Issu'd a strange and cheerless note;
'Twas not so sad as grief I heard,
Nor yet so wildly sweet as love.

In the deep gloom of yonder dell
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Cornflowers.

("Tandis que l'étoile inodore.")

[XXXII.]


While bright but scentless azure stars
Be-gem the golden corn,
And spangle with their skyey tint
The furrows not yet shorn;
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Ape each a snowy ball, -
Away, ye merry maids, and haste
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Nowhere the sun of Spain outshines
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More richly farming clown;
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Such brilliant mansions, tall, -
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Nowhere a statelier abbey rears
Dome huger o'er a shrine,
Though seek ye from old Rome itself
To even Seville fine.
Here countless pilgrims come to pray
And promenade the Mall, -
Away, ye merry maids, etc.

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The Beauteous Flower. Song Of The Imprisoned Count.

COUNT.

I Know a flower of beauty rare,

Ah, how I hold it dear!
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Were I not prison'd here.
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For when I was at liberty,

I had it close beside me.

Though from this castle's walls so steep

I cast mine eyes around,
And gaze oft from the lofty keep,

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Whoe'er would bring it to my sight,
Whether a vassal he, or knight,

My dearest friend I'd deem him.

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I blossom fair, thy tale of woes

I hear from 'neath thy grate.
Thou doubtless meanest me, the rose.

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My White Chrysanthemum.

As purely white as is the drifted snow,
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You stand alone.

Fronting the winter with a fearless grace,
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Lifting to heaven from the bare garden place
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