Poetry Archives

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-a-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.