 | The Poems of J. J. Callanan |  |
WRITTEN TO A YOUNG LADY ON ENTERING A CONVENT.
'Tis the rose of the desert,
So lovely so wild,
In the lap of the desert
It's infancy smiled;
In the languish of beauty
It droops o'er the thorn,
And its leaves are all wet
With the bright tears of morn.
So lovely so wild,
In the lap of the desert
It's infancy smiled;
In the languish of beauty
It droops o'er the thorn,
And its leaves are all wet
With the bright tears of morn.
Yet 'tis better thou fair one,
To dwell all alone,
Than recline on a bosom
Less pure than thine own;
Thy form is too lovely
To be torn from its stem,
And thy breath is too sweet
For the children of men.
To dwell all alone,
Than recline on a bosom
Less pure than thine own;
Thy form is too lovely
To be torn from its stem,
And thy breath is too sweet
For the children of men.
76
Bloom on thus in secret,
Sweet child of the waste,
Where no lips of profaner,
Thy fragrance shall taste;
Bloom on where no footsteps
Unhallowed hath trod,
And give all thy blushes
And sweets to thy God.
Sweet child of the waste,
Where no lips of profaner,
Thy fragrance shall taste;
Bloom on where no footsteps
Unhallowed hath trod,
And give all thy blushes
And sweets to thy God.
| The Poems of J. J. Callanan | |