Poems (Freston)/The Rose of the Southlands
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THE ROSE OF THE SOUTHLANDS
TO MINNA
Youth brought thee her violets, dewy and sweet,
And Friendship her treasures laid low at thy feet,
And Love, for thy sake, from his rose plucked each thorn,
And the gods brought all gifts to thy shrine to adorn;
But sad are the hearts where the magnolia blows,
For our rose of the southlands, our fair Southern rose.
Our bonny white rose! our true-hearted rose!
We yearn for the voice of our fair, Southern rose.
And Friendship her treasures laid low at thy feet,
And Love, for thy sake, from his rose plucked each thorn,
And the gods brought all gifts to thy shrine to adorn;
But sad are the hearts where the magnolia blows,
For our rose of the southlands, our fair Southern rose.
Our bonny white rose! our true-hearted rose!
We yearn for the voice of our fair, Southern rose.
Thou hast bloomed in the Southlands, a bud tall and fair,
And the sunbeams were caught in the strands of thy hair;
The zephyrs low murmured to soothe thee to rest,
And the birds sang thy praise from each leaf-shadowed nest.
Thou hast left all their bloom for the North and its snows,
And the Southlands cry "Come!" to our fair Southern rose.
Our bonny white rose! our true-hearted rose!
And the Southlands cry "Come!" to our fair Southern rose.
And the sunbeams were caught in the strands of thy hair;
The zephyrs low murmured to soothe thee to rest,
And the birds sang thy praise from each leaf-shadowed nest.
Thou hast left all their bloom for the North and its snows,
And the Southlands cry "Come!" to our fair Southern rose.
Our bonny white rose! our true-hearted rose!
And the Southlands cry "Come!" to our fair Southern rose.