Shall give thee back to earth, or death shall loose
My cruel chains and let me go to thee.
My cruel chains and let me go to thee.
A NEW-BLOWN ROSE
Dew-gemmed, sun-kissed and reaching towards the light,
Op'ning its folds, soft tinted, red and rare,
Breathing its fragrance on the morning air,
'Tis just the rose to give my love delight,
I'll pick it now, and give it her to-night.
But 'tis so sweet, so fragrant and so fair,
Smiling, blushing upon the rose bush there,
I cannot pluck it from the stem to blight
E'en though it be for my dear love to wear.
Op'ning its folds, soft tinted, red and rare,
Breathing its fragrance on the morning air,
'Tis just the rose to give my love delight,
I'll pick it now, and give it her to-night.
But 'tis so sweet, so fragrant and so fair,
Smiling, blushing upon the rose bush there,
I cannot pluck it from the stem to blight
E'en though it be for my dear love to wear.
THE POET'S LOVE
The poet's love should be a maid so fair
That all would pause in pleasure and surprise,
Whene'er she passed, to feast their hungry eyes
Upon a sight so beautiful and rare.
The poet's love should have a mind and dare
To criticise her minstrel's faulty song,
To tell him where the feeble lines went wrong,
And then to praise the little beauty there.
The poet's love should be a maid of prayer
And draw her knowledge of the lyric art
That all would pause in pleasure and surprise,
Whene'er she passed, to feast their hungry eyes
Upon a sight so beautiful and rare.
The poet's love should have a mind and dare
To criticise her minstrel's faulty song,
To tell him where the feeble lines went wrong,
And then to praise the little beauty there.
The poet's love should be a maid of prayer
And draw her knowledge of the lyric art
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