22
STANZAS TO A ROSE.
Thou loveliest flow'r that ever bloom'd
Beneath the summer's ardent sky,
Oh! wherefore are thy beauties doom'd
So soon to wither, fade, and die!
Beneath the summer's ardent sky,
Oh! wherefore are thy beauties doom'd
So soon to wither, fade, and die!
But yesterday thou wert array'd
In all the budding charms of youth,
Sweet as the blushing village maid,
Fair as the spotless form of truth.
In all the budding charms of youth,
Sweet as the blushing village maid,
Fair as the spotless form of truth.
This morn I paus'd with joy to view
The glowing beauties of thy face,
Thy silken leaves of love's own hue,
Thy form matur'd in matchless grace.
The glowing beauties of thy face,
Thy silken leaves of love's own hue,
Thy form matur'd in matchless grace.
