Now caught the lustre shed in streams
By the fierce sun's meridian beams,
And weaving hues of every dye
Blended with magic harmony,
Glowed in celestial mockery.
And when, at times, a heedless zephyr
The bow which trembled there did sever
Each broken arch would, wavering, woo
Its gentle image to renew
Their love—now in the sunbeams waving,
Now in the ambient spray-dew laving
Their charms—then close in fond embrace
Leaving no tinge of parting's trace.
Oh! ever thus should friends remain
Aye linked in friendship's golden chain ;
Seizing the sunshine of bright hours,
Plucking the rosy-blossomed flowers;
And if the world's unwelcome breath
Taint with its blight one roseate wreath
Unheeded let it find a grave
When not our skill its sweets can save.
If from our grasp the rose is torn
Why should our bosoms nurse the thorn.
In amity's pure cup we'll find