 | Poems by Hartley Coleridge |  |
FROM THE GERMAN.
There is an angel that abides
Within the budding rose;
That is his home, and there he hides
His head in calm repose.
The rose-bud is his humble bower,
And yet he often loves to roam;
And wending through the path of Heaven,
Empurples all the track of even.
Within the budding rose;
That is his home, and there he hides
His head in calm repose.
The rose-bud is his humble bower,
And yet he often loves to roam;
And wending through the path of Heaven,
Empurples all the track of even.
If e'er he sees a maiden meek,
He hovers nigh, and flings
Upon the modest maiden's cheek
The shadow of his wings.
Oh, lovely maiden, dost thou know
Why thy cheeks so warmly glow?
'Tis the Angel of the Rose,
That salutes thee as he goes.
He hovers nigh, and flings
Upon the modest maiden's cheek
The shadow of his wings.
Oh, lovely maiden, dost thou know
Why thy cheeks so warmly glow?
'Tis the Angel of the Rose,
That salutes thee as he goes.
| Poems by Hartley Coleridge | |