FRAGRANCE.

Evening Star, Issue 20428, 8 March 1930, Page 27

FRAGRANCE.

You walked through a garden— Do you remember— But that was in Juno . . . And this is November. And you did not notice Me at all. For I was a tulip Beside a wall. But my ashes still breathe Of a lady fair, Who plucked me and tucked mo In her dark hair. A lady who wept That you did not remember , You kissed her in June-** When it came November. —Judy Shea, in the Chicago ‘Tribune.’ THE CLIMB. Unbeaten still, and fighting all the way Through frozen irons of the earth I rose Till a pale crocus fetterless I lay, A purple shadow on the fainting snows. Still climbing in the scale of life, I wore At length the likeness of the patient ox, Dragged the laborious plough of years, and bore The goads of mockery, suns that split the rocks. Still unrepulsed, my will attained to man, And wore his robe of flesh like Hercules, And wrestling nobly with the pain that ran Throughout it, passed in a great flaming breeze. A flame, to flamiug ramparts of the world I sped; the raiment for the new elect Swirled in the wind, like autumn foliage swirled, And a voice cried: “For thy new life, select.’’ Then I remembered how* you still below Faced the grey rain on memory summer hivctl: I paused a moment at those robes aglow, Then down I dived as never swallow dived. —Geoffrey Johnson, in the ‘'Nation/ *Ncw. York..