 | Poems |  |
354
SONG.
Pass, falling rose!
Not now the glory of the spring is round thee;
Not now the air of summer round thee blows;
Pallid and chill, the autumn's mists have found thee;
Pass, falling rose!
Not now the glory of the spring is round thee;
Not now the air of summer round thee blows;
Pallid and chill, the autumn's mists have found thee;
Pass, falling rose!
Pass, falling rose!
Where are the songs that wooed thy glad unfolding?
Only the south the wood-dove's soft wail knows;
Far southern eaves the swallow's nest are holding;
Pass, falling rose!
Where are the songs that wooed thy glad unfolding?
Only the south the wood-dove's soft wail knows;
Far southern eaves the swallow's nest are holding;
Pass, falling rose!
Pass, falling rose!
Linger the blooms, to birth thy glory wooing?
Longer the hues that lured thee to unclose?
Long, long, their leaves the dark earth have been strewing;
Pass, falling rose!
Linger the blooms, to birth thy glory wooing?
Longer the hues that lured thee to unclose?
Long, long, their leaves the dark earth have been strewing;
Pass, falling rose!
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