University of Virginia Library


182

THE YOUNG ROSE.

The young rose I give thee, so dewy and bright,
Was the flow'ret most dear to the sweet bird of night,
Who oft, by the moon, o'er her blushes hath hung,
And thrill'd every leaf with the wild lay he sung.
Oh, take thou this young rose, and let her life be
Prolong'd by the breath she will borrow from thee;
For, while o'er her bosom thy soft notes shall thrill,
She'll think the sweet night-bird is courting her still.