University of Virginia Library


35

TO A LADY,

WITH A LATE ROSE.

Sweet rose! untimely is thy bloom,
And wasted all thy fine perfume,
For winter's icy breath will come,
And blight thy crimson blossom!
Then, Harriet, pluck it from its stem
With all its buds, a blushing gem,
And for their sweetness shelter them
Upon thy beauteous bosom.