This page needs to be proofread.
THE FADED BOUQUET.
An, Rose! forgive the hand severe
That snatched thee from thy sacred bed,
Where bow'd with many a pearly tear
Thy widow'd partner droops her head;
And thou, sweet Violet, modest flower,
Oh ! take my sad relenting sigh,
Nor stain thy cheek with glowing fire,
Which too much fondness bids thee die.
That snatched thee from thy sacred bed,
Where bow'd with many a pearly tear
Thy widow'd partner droops her head;
And thou, sweet Violet, modest flower,
Oh ! take my sad relenting sigh,
Nor stain thy cheek with glowing fire,
Which too much fondness bids thee die.
Sweet Lily ! had I never gazed
With rapture on your gentle form,
You might have died, unknown, unprais'd,
The victim of some ruthless storm.
When fickle love his altar rears,
Your little bells had learnt to wave,
Or sadly gemmed with kindred tears,
Had deck'd some hapless maiden's grave.
With rapture on your gentle form,
You might have died, unknown, unprais'd,
The victim of some ruthless storm.
When fickle love his altar rears,
Your little bells had learnt to wave,
Or sadly gemmed with kindred tears,
Had deck'd some hapless maiden's grave.
Inconstant Woodbine, wherefore rove
With gadding stem about my bower ?
Why with my darling myrtle wove,
In bold defiance mock my power ?
Why quit thy native garden fair,
To flaunt thy buds, thy odours fling,
And idly greet the passing air,
Or every wanton zephyr's wing?
With gadding stem about my bower ?
Why with my darling myrtle wove,
In bold defiance mock my power ?
Why quit thy native garden fair,
To flaunt thy buds, thy odours fling,
And idly greet the passing air,
Or every wanton zephyr's wing?
