 | Poems |  |
107
SONG.
The fairest things are those which live,
And vanish ere their name we give;
The rosiest clouds in evening's sky,
Are those which soonest fade and fly;
The loveliest hue which decks the rose,
Is when the mossy buds unclose,
Half-opening forth with smiling air,
Like red lips of my lady fair.
And vanish ere their name we give;
The rosiest clouds in evening's sky,
Are those which soonest fade and fly;
The loveliest hue which decks the rose,
Is when the mossy buds unclose,
Half-opening forth with smiling air,
Like red lips of my lady fair.
The balmiest hour the seasons bring,
Is that which summer joins to spring;
The sweetest moment of the day,
Is when the grey dawn slides away;
The brightest rays are those which fly
Through April showers, and dance, and die;
Just quivering through the dewy air,
Like eye-beams of my lady fair.
Is that which summer joins to spring;
The sweetest moment of the day,
Is when the grey dawn slides away;
108
Through April showers, and dance, and die;
Just quivering through the dewy air,
Like eye-beams of my lady fair.
| Poems | |