Harvest-Home (1805) | ||
134
TO A FRIEND, WITH A SPRIG OF BALM.
Alas! no morning Incense blooms!
Sweet Children of a Summer's day
Are wither'd in their earthy tombs,
Save Balm, that blossoms in decay.
Sweet Children of a Summer's day
Are wither'd in their earthy tombs,
Save Balm, that blossoms in decay.
Yet in my breast one Flow'ret blows;
One heav'n-blest Flower of fadeless blue!
Friendship! more fair than Sharon's Rose;
And that, my Friend, shall bloom for You.
One heav'n-blest Flower of fadeless blue!
Friendship! more fair than Sharon's Rose;
And that, my Friend, shall bloom for You.
Harvest-Home (1805) | ||