At Dawn and Dusk

The Hawthorn

Victor James Daley

BY the road, near her father’s dwelling,
    There groweth a hawthorn tree:
Its blossoms are fair and fragrant
    As the love that I cast from me.

It is all a-bloom this morning
    In the sunny silentness,
And grows by the roadside, radiant
    As a bride in her bridal dress.

But ah me! at sight of its blossoms
    No pleasant memories start:
I see but the thorns beneath them—
    And the thorns they pierce my heart.

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