C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Alice E. Gillington (1863–1934)
The Rosy Musk-Mallow
T
O my gipsy rose!
In the deep dark lanes where thou and I must meet—
So sweet!
Before the harvest moon’s gold glints over the down,
Or the brown-sailed trawler returns to the gray sea-town,
The rosy musk-mallow sways, and the south wind’s laughter
Follows our footsteps after!
So daintily O!
Where thou and I in the silence of night must pass,
My lass!
Over the stream with its ripple of song, to-night,
We will fly, we will run together, my heart’s delight!
The rosy musk-mallow sways, and the moor-brook’s laughter
Follows our footsteps after!
It curtsies to thee,
O my gipsy-queen, it curtsies adown to thy feet—
So sweet!
When dead leaves drift through the dusk of the autumn day,
And the red elf-lanthorns hang from the spindle-spray,
The rosy musk-mallow sways, and the sea’s wild laughter
Follows our footsteps after!
And the bindweed creeps;
Through tangled wood-paths unknown we must take our flight
To-night!
As the pale hedge-lilies around the dark elder wind,
Clasp thy white arms about me, nor look behind.
The rosy musk-mallow is closed, and the soft leaves’ laughter
Follows our footsteps after!