Poems (David)/The Rose
For works with similar titles, see The Rose.
THE ROSE.
IS there a rose which hath no thorn
The ruthless hand, alas! to wound?
Or evil thought that e'er was born
But stamped its nameless terrors soon?
The ruthless hand, alas! to wound?
Or evil thought that e'er was born
But stamped its nameless terrors soon?
And so each sin, in tempting guise
To sorrow swift alone leads on;
Its mild alluring form belies
The sharp and hidden thorns beyond!
To sorrow swift alone leads on;
Its mild alluring form belies
The sharp and hidden thorns beyond!
The rose she is a subtle queen,
Her courtly bower with evil filled;
Though her gay leaves spring fresh and green,
They own, alas! no generous will.
Her courtly bower with evil filled;
Though her gay leaves spring fresh and green,
They own, alas! no generous will.
And so sin blithely leads us on
Along a smooth and flowering way!
We start to find our hope is gone
Amidst the darkness and decay!
Along a smooth and flowering way!
We start to find our hope is gone
Amidst the darkness and decay!
Deceitful world! thy pleasures are
But as the vain and crumbling dust;
Oh! where the form on earth or star,
The human heart can simply trust!
But as the vain and crumbling dust;
Oh! where the form on earth or star,
The human heart can simply trust!