Beauties of the mind, a poetical sketch :: :: University of Virginia Library

The flower thou lov'st—the flower thou lov'st—
Oh! would I were that blesséd flower;
To be with thee where'er thou rov'st,
Thine own young breast my beauteous bower:
To feel thy warm lips, soft and sweet,
Breathe fondly o'er my crimson bloom:
'Twere bliss to die—if thus to meet
So kind a death—so fair a tomb!

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II

The flower thou lov'st—oh! 'twere indeed
A fate of unalloyed delight;
Thus on thy beauty's breath to feed,
And gently fade in thy loved sight:
For, oh! when every leaf was gone,
That once thine eyes with light could fill;
In spirit I would linger on,
And float, in fragrance, round thee still.