University of Virginia Library


Rosamond, my Rosamond
Of roses is the rose;
Her bloom belongs to summer,
Nor less in winter glows,
When, mossed in furs all cosey,
We speed it o'er the snows
By ice-bound streams enchanted,
While red Arcturus, he
A huntsman ever ruddy,
Sees a ruddier star by me.
O Rosamond, Rose Rosamond,
Is yonder Dian's reign?
Look, the icicles despond
Chill drooping from the fane!
But Rosamond, Rose Rosamond,
In us, a plighted pair,
First makes with flame a bond,—
One purity they share.
To feel your cheek like ice,
While snug the furs inclose—
This is spousal love's device
This is Arctic Paradise,
And wooing in the snows!
Rosamond, my Rosamond,
Rose Rosamond, Moss-Rose!