ASHES OF ROSES.
11
Like some fair light that shines in dreams,
So softly bright, so sweetly tender;
The glow upon the rounded cheek,
The lisping voice in broken sweetness,
More life and love and joy bespeak
Than all the summer's rich completeness.
So softly bright, so sweetly tender;
The glow upon the rounded cheek,
The lisping voice in broken sweetness,
More life and love and joy bespeak
Than all the summer's rich completeness.
And yet—alas! the woful chance
That comes to dim the moment's pleasure!
The sparkling eye, the speaking glance,
The heaped-up wealth of June's best treasure,
Do but recall a vanished bliss,
As Memory's hand the curtain raises,—
Another head as fair as this,
That lies below the nodding daisies.
That comes to dim the moment's pleasure!
The sparkling eye, the speaking glance,
The heaped-up wealth of June's best treasure,
Do but recall a vanished bliss,
As Memory's hand the curtain raises,—
Another head as fair as this,
That lies below the nodding daisies.
