Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
America: Vols. XXV–XXIX. 1876–79.
The Romance of a Rose
By Nora Perry (18321896)I
Since the day that the Count de Rochambeau—
Our ally against the British crown—
Met Washington in Newport town.
But bareheaded over Aquidneck hill,
Guest and host they took their way,
While on either side was the grand array
Ranged three deep in a glittering line;
And the French fleet sent a welcome roar
Of a hundred guns from Canonicut shore.
And from street to street the Newport people
Followed and cheered, with a hearty zest,
De Rochambeau and his honored guest.
And out of the windows smiled and sent
Many a coy admiring glance
To the fine young officers of France.
Kissed a rose and flung it down
Straight at the feet of De Rochambeau;
And the gallant marshal, bending low,
And kissed it back, with a glance at the face
Of the daring maiden where she stood,
Blushing out of her silken hood.
The Marshal of France wore a faded rose
In his gold-laced coat; but he looked in vain
For the giver’s beautiful face again.
The Frenchman eagerly sought, they say,
At feast, or at church, or along the street,
For the girl who flung her rose at his feet.
Was speeding farther and farther away
From the fatal window, the fatal street,
Where her passionate heart had suddenly beat
A Puritan teaches to heart and soul;
A throb too much for the wrathful eyes
Of one who had watched in dismayed surprise
Of a woman’s heart in that moment’s rage,
He swore, this old colonial squire,
That before the daylight should expire,
And her dangerous heart and her beautiful face,
Should be on her way to a sure retreat,
Where no rose of hers could fall at the feet
And so while the Count de Rochambeau
In his gold-laced coat wore a faded flower,
And awaited the giver hour by hour,
On the little deck of the sloop Delight;
Guarded even in the darkness there
By the wrathful eyes of a jealous care.
Into the harbor of Newport town,
Towing a wreck,—’t was the sloop Delight,
Off Hampton rocks, in the very sight
And all on board of her, full in view
Of the storm-bound fishermen over the bay,
Went to their doom on that April day.
He muttered a prayer, for a moment grew pale;
Then “Mon Dieu,” he exclaimed, “so my fine romance
From beginning to end is a rose and a glance.”