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25

The ROSE-BUD: A Song.

How lovely the child of the dawn,
Aurora suffused in tears!
How sweet, 'midst the shade of the thorn,
The blush of the rose-bud appears!
While we gaze, lo! the beautiful flush
Of the orient has vanish'd away;
And the rose-bud, when pluck'd from the bush,
Shall languish, shall fade, and decay.
So transient, sweet boy, are the schemes
Which Youth in warm fancy design'd;
They vanish away like our dreams,
And leave not a shadow behind.
26

The lessons of Prudence, 'tis true,
We learn, and like parrots prate o'er;
No sooner fresh trifles ensue
Than we think of those lessons no more.
While Folly is acting her part,
Experience comes on with her train;
Her scourges imprint on the heart
What Wisdom long whisper'd in vain.
Like you I once fondly believ'd
That this was mere cynical lore;
Though oftentimes mock'd and deceiv'd,
I trusted to Pleasure the more.
She ran, and I join'd in the race,
Regardless of bramble or thorn,
Till spent and worn out in the chase,
I sunk, and she left me forlorn.
27

O then, my lov'd Strephon, be wise,
Believe what a friend can suggest;
Bliss, like the gay bow in the skies,
Is gaz'd at, but never possess'd.
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