University of Virginia Library


36

THE LAST ROSE.

Give it shelter in thy bosom,
This, the year's last rose;
In that safe and loving haven
Let its leaves repose,
With a lingering flush of crimson,
Ere in death they close.
It will die, but calm and happy,
Shielded from the blast;
E'en when life is gone its fragrance
Will that life outlast,
Like the perfume-breathing memory
Of a pleasure past.

39

Other flowers I might have found thee,
Brighter, fresher far—
Lo! the jasmine, thro' its foliage
Gleaming like a star;
Lo! the lily, still the fairest
Where a thousand are.
But this blossom's faded beauty
These doth far outshine;
Thoughts of by-gone joys have robed it
With a light divine;
On its leaves are writ the stories
Of sweet “Auld lang syne.”
Give it rest, then, in thy bosom,
This, the year's last rose;
In that safe and loving haven
Let its leaves repose,
With a lingering flush of crimson,
Ere in death they close.