| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 732. A Character |
| | | By Charlotte Fiske Bates (Madame Rogé) |
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| HIS face is truly of the Roman mould, | |
| He bears within the heart of Cato, too; | |
| Although his look may seem severe and cold, | |
| He never would be false to truth or you. | |
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| And deepest feeling hides about the mouth; | 5 |
| His soul-wind blows not always from the north, | |
| But sometimes also from the gentle south, | |
| And then, like flowers, the tender words steal forth. | |
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| The light and fickle still have love to spare, | |
| If Death has taken from them even thrice; | 10 |
| But she who has this noble’s love to wear | |
| May know it never will be given twice. | |
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| Yes, whom he chooses may be always sure | |
| That no one else will ever take her place; | |
| Of his whole heart eternally secure, | 15 |
| Less need she tremble at Death’s chilling face. | |
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| And should she leave him, he will not wax weak | |
| With noisy woe, till Solace bare her breast; | |
| Not in those soft and soothing arms would seek | |
| To dim the sense of loss in childish rest. | 20 |
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| Nay! such as he, not months and years alone, | |
| Will keep the grave’s grass green, its marble white; | |
| The cherished rose will blow about the stone | |
| Till hands that plighted troth shall reunite. | |
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