 | Naked Genius |  |
DEATH OF A FAVORITE.
O death, thy power I own,
Whose mission was to crush,
And snatch the rose so quickly blown
Down from its native bush,
The flowers of beauty doomed to pine,
Ascends from this to worlds divine.
Whose mission was to crush,
And snatch the rose so quickly blown
Down from its native bush,
The flowers of beauty doomed to pine,
Ascends from this to worlds divine.
13
Death is a joyful doom;
Let tears of sorrow dry.
The rose on earth but fades to bloom
And blossom in the sky;
Why should the soul resist the hand
That leads her to celestial land.
Let tears of sorrow dry.
The rose on earth but fades to bloom
And blossom in the sky;
Why should the soul resist the hand
That leads her to celestial land.
Then bonny bird farewell,
Till hence we meet again,
Perhaps I have not long to dwell
Within this cumbrous chain.
Till on Elysian shores we meet,
Till grief is lost and joy complete.
Till hence we meet again,
Perhaps I have not long to dwell
Within this cumbrous chain.
Till on Elysian shores we meet,
Till grief is lost and joy complete.
| Naked Genius | |