I ROAM in a garden vestal-fair The livelong tranquil day, 'Mid spotless lilies and snowdrops there And tremulous tints of May; Where myriad violets scent the gloom Of the forest-winding stream, And waxen white camellias bloom With a chill, unearthly gleam; But I sicken of all, and cry to Fate For the red, red roses beyond the gate. From every land, from every clime, The earth-stars here are come, And proudly they banish the old lord Time From their glamour-haunted home; But where the purple pansies grow, Uplifting their eyes to mine, I wander, restless and sad and slow, And seek for a flower divine. Then I sicken of all, and cry to Fate For the red, red roses beyond the gate. For there, from my vine-wreathed prison-wall, I see their passionate glow; I catch a fragrance rarer than all The breath of my flowers of snow; The wine of their beauty wakes and thrills My spirit more and more; And a new, enthralling message fills The magic they outpour. So I gaze in longing, and cry to Fate For the red, red roses beyond the gate. "Beyond the gate," moans the traveler Wind, "There are darker sights than these; Freshness and bloom are hard to find And the shade of Eden trees; But the plains are bare and the mountains cold, And drear is the desolate sea; The woe of the world is grim and old, 'Tis death to thy flowers and thee." But I hearken not; I cry to Fate For the red, red roses beyond the gate. I know there is sorrow and gloom and pain In the world for a soul untried; That my buds may wither, nor bloom again, If the gate be opened wide. But I cry for freedom, for love, for life, For the real that conquers the dream! And I know that there, in the heart of the strife, The victor's banners gleam. So I break the barrier, and fly with Fate To the red, red roses beyond the gate! |