Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems by the late Thomas Haynes Bayly; Edited by his Widow. With A Memoir of the Author. In Two Volumes |
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 | Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems |  |
IV. ROUND MY OWN PRETTY ROSE.
Round my own pretty Rose I have hover'd all day;
I have seen its sweet leaves one by one fall away;
They are gone—they are gone—but I go not with them;
No, I linger to weep o'er the desolate stem.
They say—‘If I rove to the South, I shall meet
With hundreds of Roses more fair and more sweet:’
But my heart, when I'm tempted to wander, replies;
“Here my first love—my last love—my only love lies.”
I have seen its sweet leaves one by one fall away;
They are gone—they are gone—but I go not with them;
No, I linger to weep o'er the desolate stem.
They say—‘If I rove to the South, I shall meet
With hundreds of Roses more fair and more sweet:’
But my heart, when I'm tempted to wander, replies;
“Here my first love—my last love—my only love lies.”
When I sprang from the home where my plumage was nurst,
'Twas my own pretty Rose that attracted me first.
We have loved all the summer; and now that the chill
Of the winter comes o'er us, I'm true to thee still.
When the last leaf is wither'd, and falls to the earth,
The false one to southerly climes may fly forth:
But Truth cannot fly from his sorrow; he dies,
Where his first love—his last love—his only love lies.
'Twas my own pretty Rose that attracted me first.
We have loved all the summer; and now that the chill
Of the winter comes o'er us, I'm true to thee still.
When the last leaf is wither'd, and falls to the earth,
The false one to southerly climes may fly forth:
But Truth cannot fly from his sorrow; he dies,
Where his first love—his last love—his only love lies.
| Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems | |