 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THE PLUCKED ROSE.
I plucked a rose that in its glory grew,
Within the shadow of a cottage door,
The only riches of the inmates poor,
Bathed in the beauty of its summer dew;
Within the shadow of a cottage door,
The only riches of the inmates poor,
Bathed in the beauty of its summer dew;
It was unsheltered from the storms that blew,
And would surrender soon to some rude boor
Its graces, did I not those charms renew,
In golden courts and on a marble floor.
And would surrender soon to some rude boor
Its graces, did I not those charms renew,
In golden courts and on a marble floor.
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But lo! when it was in my eager grip,
The virgin bloom I deemed would ever last,
Seemed as if blighted by a winter blast;
The virgin bloom I deemed would ever last,
Seemed as if blighted by a winter blast;
It was no longer honey to the lip,
That could its sweetness any moment sip,
The freshness faded and the splendour past.
That could its sweetness any moment sip,
The freshness faded and the splendour past.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |