Two Roses.

A poem by Hattie Howard

I've a friend beyond the ocean
So regardful, so sincere,
And he sends me in a letter
Such a pretty souvenir.

It is crushed to death and withered,
Out of shape and very flat,
But its pure, delicious odor
Is the richer for all that.

'Tis a rose from Honolulu,
And it bears the tropic brand,
Sandwiched in this friendly missive
From that far-off flower-land.

It shall mingle pot-à-pourri
With the scents I love and keep;
Some of them so very precious
That remembrance makes me weep.

While I dream I hear the music
That of happiness foretells,
Like the flourishing of trumpets
And the sound of marriage bells.

There's a rose upon the prairie,
Chosen his by happy fate,
He shall gather when he cometh
Sailing through the Golden Gate.

Mine, a public posy, growing
Somewhere by the garden wall,
Might have gone to any stranger,
May have been admired by all.

But the rose in beauty blushing,
Tenderly and sweetly grown
In the home and its affections,
Blooms for him, and him alone.

Speed the voyager returning;
His shall be a welcome warm,
With the Rose of Minnesota
Gently resting on his arm.

Love embraces in his kingdom
Earth and sea and sky and air.
Hail, Columbia! hail, Hawaii!
It is Heaven everywhere.

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