 | [To a Withered Rose, in] Garden walks with the poets |  |
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To a Withered Rose.
Pale flower—pale, fragile, faded flower;
What tender recollections swell,
What thoughts of deep and thrilling power
Are kindled by thy mystic spell!
What tender recollections swell,
What thoughts of deep and thrilling power
Are kindled by thy mystic spell!
A charm is in thy faint perfume,
To call up visions of the past,
Which, through my mind's o'ershadowing gloom,
“Rush, like the rare stars, dim and fast.”
To call up visions of the past,
Which, through my mind's o'ershadowing gloom,
“Rush, like the rare stars, dim and fast.”
And loveliest shines that evening hour,
More dear by time and sorrow made,
When thou wert culled (love's token flower!)
And on my throbbing bosom laid.
More dear by time and sorrow made,
When thou wert culled (love's token flower!)
And on my throbbing bosom laid.
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On eve's pale brow one star burned bright,
Like heavenward hope, whose soothing beam,
Is veiled from pleasure's dazzled sight,
To shine on sorrow's diadem.
Like heavenward hope, whose soothing beam,
Is veiled from pleasure's dazzled sight,
To shine on sorrow's diadem.
Bright as the tears thy beauty wept,
The dew-drops on thy petals lay,
Till evening's silver winds had swept
Thy cheek, and kissed them all away.
The dew-drops on thy petals lay,
Till evening's silver winds had swept
Thy cheek, and kissed them all away.
| [To a Withered Rose, in] Garden walks with the poets | |