The Atlanta constitution. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1885-19??, 1892-02-16
THE DRAMA OF TIE ROSE

AS opened the ancient volume I had
taken from the library a rose-heayen knows
how many centuries had passed since it
had bloomed !--pressed in the pages pale and
indistnct, fell, withered, at my feet.
There, in that dim room whose dust and
darkness almost drowned the glimmering light
alone with book and Il rose, l fell to dream
ing. And such dream!
What was tho hidden power in the breast of
that dead rose? AS it fell from it's ancient
prison a subtle perfume fillod the room; it was
first the sharp, sweet perfume Of early spring
when dawns are chilly; then, theSscent Of sum-
mer rains in dusty ways; the languorous odor
of autumn twilights, and them
But the dreary room seemed clouded; the
light tlicl1ered, blaZed and died; the sllken
curtains rustled, as if thrilled by the spirit Of
coming storm; the pictured faces On the
walls glared at me with awful eyes, and L
seemed to lose myself in some wild dream. The
dead rose at my feet grew luminous with life;
L felt it's fragrant petals fan my face; its sharp
thorns pricked me, until its white crest
was cr;msoned with the red drops Of my own
blood.
"DIadman - cried the rose, 'to drag me
from my dreams in the dark of centuries
What is your world to me, who died for love
long centuries ago J"
Iwould have answered, but the power OF
speech had left me; and suddenly, while yet
the rose was speaking, the room seemed aDiaZe
with light and color: strange faces fitted by
me; n bell rang; crimson curtain was up
rolled from splendid stage there was a sound
of music; two forms stood out before me; then
q woman bent down, and plucking splendid
rose from garden OF roses, kissed it and
n
a dream, she passed away.
The scene changed. In the dim light OF gray
dawn Awo men met in a forest; there was
a glitter of steel, c.ashing olswords, and
thcn-one man lay dead.
The other, bending over him, tore from his
wounded breast rose, red with the Efe-drops
of lis faithful heart, and passed into the
| forest and the dawn.
| Then the beautiful woman who had plucl1ed
that sad rose for her lover, sat i'll the twilight
| dreaming Of his kisses-listening for his FOOT
| step.
There was sudden rustic in tho leaves, a
| tremor Of the vines, and the slayer, fleeing
! from that white face in the forest bowed
| down to her and, kissing her hand, gave her
| the bloody rose.
She did not speak. She only kissed it as
! she did that day when her white hand pinned
| it on her lovers breast; and kissing it, her
sweet tears fell and made it white again.
Then came roar of voices, the buckling on
| of armor, the rattle of swords in their scab-
bards, the dashing Of men into the forest after
fleeing figure whose hand clasped dripping
sword.
But above all, the weeping of a woman over
| a ruined rose and then, her pale lips kissing
it with loves last kisses, for the sweet sake OF
| love that was no more
! "And did they catch the murderer"' o voice
! asks at my side
| The sound awalens me. The room-the
lbrarY-lght and q child's kiss on my fore
| head!
"Ihe rose! the rosep' l gasp. And them
| stroke the golden curls that nestle near me
| and smile as she says
"You have been talking in your dreams"
! FRANK l.. STANTON.