The gift of white roses . THE GIFT OF WHITE ROSES My feet are shackled, broken are my wings, Seared are my vitals, polluted is my flesh. Oh could I fly as once I flew, Fd fly— i Father. But those who cannot fly must walk, and those Who cannot walk must crawl. Mary. How can I walk?I cannot even crawl,—I dare not lookAt Gods stern awesome face, for fear Hell strikeMe dumb for such blasphemy. Mother. Do you not knowThe story of the maid in Holy Writ,Whom men in righteous wrath, would fain have stoned ?But when the Saviour heard, He sweetly said,Let him that hath not sinned, throw first his stone;
The gift of white roses . THE GIFT OF WHITE ROSES My feet are shackled, broken are my wings, Seared are my vitals, polluted is my flesh. Oh could I fly as once I flew, Fd fly— i Father. But those who cannot fly must walk, and those Who cannot walk must crawl. Mary. How can I walk?I cannot even crawl,—I dare not lookAt Gods stern awesome face, for fear Hell strikeMe dumb for such blasphemy. Mother. Do you not knowThe story of the maid in Holy Writ,Whom men in righteous wrath, would fain have stoned ?But when the Saviour heard, He sweetly said,Let him that hath not sinned, throw first his stone;And then, when they were gone, He said to her,Go, too, in peace, and sin no more. Mary. A ray Of hope, above my awful writhing sea of maid am I! Those self-same words I heardThis morn; I had forgotten them till how it comes Im here. 0, had I heardThem many years ago. Tis hard for me,Thus steeped in sin, to hear. The awful din[63]. V VJ 1 THE GIFT OF WHITE ROSES Of writhing spirits almost drives me wild.—Down, down! ye hellish beasts! I dimly seeYou vanquished. Yet you rise again to fight.—Would there were mission ladies everywhere!Would I could live again my life. Fd goInto the dankest jaws of hell, and drawFrom out their sickening depths, lost angels,Such as I have ever been.—But I am nowAweary; will you lay me down to rest,And turn the couch so I can see the faceI wore when I was but a peaceful child?—There, that will do. My head feels cooler I had not defaced the image thereUpon the wall.— Mother. Who comes? John (in semblance, an old umbrella mender). I heard a voice,The voice of all the stringed melodiesMost musical. back, you villain monster!Speak what you are that dares thus come to robUs of the only hour weve had in years. John. I come to speak with her that was my wife. back, you heartless villain![64]
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