50
Those simple tints, so bright and clear,
No healing dew-drops can restore;
For joys, which early life endear,
Once blighted, can revive no more.
No healing dew-drops can restore;
For joys, which early life endear,
Once blighted, can revive no more.
Yet lovely is the full-blown rose,
Although its infant graces fly;
The various opening leaves disclose,
A fairer banquet to the eye;
Although its infant graces fly;
The various opening leaves disclose,
A fairer banquet to the eye;
A ruby's beams on drifted snow,
Such pure, harmonious blushes shed;
If distant, cast a tender glow,
But near, its own imperial red;
Such pure, harmonious blushes shed;
If distant, cast a tender glow,
But near, its own imperial red;
The form assumes a prouder air,
And bends more graceful in the gale;
While, from its cup, of essence rare,
A richer hoard of sweets exhale.
And bends more graceful in the gale;
While, from its cup, of essence rare,
A richer hoard of sweets exhale.
