Out of the florist's window a young face looked at me,
Hung round with graceful tendrils of flower-starred greenery;
Out of a frame of roses, red-hearted, dew wet, sweet,
A girl's face looked and laughed at the turmoil of the street,
Hope in the grey eyes dancing; and on the fearless lip
Love had gone forth -- full-freighted the cargo of his ship --
With trust in a future splendid, faith in the things to be,
Out of the florist's window the young face laughed at me!
Out of the florist's window a wan face looked at me,
From among the Easter lilies, deep set in greenery;
Flanked by night blue violets, gold of the deep cupped moss,
To the glare of the roadway the grey eyes, looked across
There was pain on the furrowed brow, on the tight-drawn lip;
Wrecked on the rocks of life was love and his freighted ship.
With no hope for the future, no trust in the things to be,
From the florist's window the sad face looked out at me.
In the florist's window there is set a mirror wide
Which reflects the faces of the drifting crowd outside,
And where the red heart roses and the sprays of creeper twine
The sad and glad eyes were MY eyes, both of the faces mine!
First published in The Australian Town and Country Journal, 24 January 1906
