 | The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury |  |
160
BALLAD.
“La rose cueillie et le coeur gagné ne plaisent qu'un jour.”
The maiden sat at her busy wheel,
Her heart was light and free,
And ever in cheerful song broke forth
Her bosom's harmless glee.
Her song was in mockery of love,
And oft I heard her say,
“The gathered rose and the stolen heart
Can charm but for a day.”
Her heart was light and free,
And ever in cheerful song broke forth
Her bosom's harmless glee.
Her song was in mockery of love,
And oft I heard her say,
“The gathered rose and the stolen heart
Can charm but for a day.”
I looked on the maiden's rosy cheek,
And her lip so full and bright,
And I sighed to think that the traitor love,
Should conquer a heart so light:
But she thought not of future days of woe,
While she caroled in tones so gay,
“The gathered rose and the stolen heart
Can charm but for a day.”
And her lip so full and bright,
And I sighed to think that the traitor love,
Should conquer a heart so light:
But she thought not of future days of woe,
While she caroled in tones so gay,
“The gathered rose and the stolen heart
Can charm but for a day.”
A year passed on, and again I stood
By the humble cottage-door;
The maid sat at her busy wheel,
But her look was blithe no more;
The big tear stood in her down-cast eye,
And with sighs I heard her say,
“The gathered rose and the stolen heart
Can charm but for a day.”
By the humble cottage-door;
The maid sat at her busy wheel,
But her look was blithe no more;
The big tear stood in her down-cast eye,
And with sighs I heard her say,
“The gathered rose and the stolen heart
Can charm but for a day.”
161
O! well I knew what had dimmed her eye,
And made her cheek so pale;
The maid had forgotten her early song,
While she listened to love's soft tale.
She had tasted the sweets of his poisoned cup,
It had wasted her life away:
And the stolen heart, like the gathered rose,
Had charmed but for a day.
And made her cheek so pale;
The maid had forgotten her early song,
While she listened to love's soft tale.
She had tasted the sweets of his poisoned cup,
It had wasted her life away:
And the stolen heart, like the gathered rose,
Had charmed but for a day.
| The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | |