Pretty Lessons in Verse for Good Children; with Some Lessons in Latin, in Easy Rhyme. By Sara Coleridge. The Fourth Edition, with Many Cuts |
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THE ROSE. |
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 | Pretty Lessons in Verse |  |
71
THE ROSE.
The May-buds are all passed away,
Anemones leave us too soon,
Hepatica lasts but a day,
The Primrose dies under our shoon;
Gay Daffodils blossom'd in March,
The Harebell and Cowslip so wan,
That came with the leaves of the larch,
From dingle and meadow are gone.
Anemones leave us too soon,
Hepatica lasts but a day,
The Primrose dies under our shoon;
Gay Daffodils blossom'd in March,
The Harebell and Cowslip so wan,
That came with the leaves of the larch,
From dingle and meadow are gone.
And here is the beautiful Rose,
She blossoms right early in June;
What odour she loves to disclose!
How brightly she blushes at noon!
As soon as the cherry is red,
As soon as the strawberries come,
She lifts up her beautiful head,—
The bloom is not yet on the plum.
She blossoms right early in June;
What odour she loves to disclose!
How brightly she blushes at noon!
As soon as the cherry is red,
As soon as the strawberries come,
She lifts up her beautiful head,—
The bloom is not yet on the plum.
The Lily in loveliness gleams,
She gracefully bends to the gale;
And fair is the lily of streams,
And fragrant is she of the vale.
But dews are a diadem bright
Of one that more splendidly glows:
Fair Cynthia's queen of the night,—
The queen of the garden's the Rose.
She gracefully bends to the gale;
And fair is the lily of streams,
And fragrant is she of the vale.
But dews are a diadem bright
Of one that more splendidly glows:
Fair Cynthia's queen of the night,—
The queen of the garden's the Rose.
72
How long will the fair one be here?
She'll outstay the Piony bright;
She'll stay till the fall of the year,
When day is no longer than night.
When harvest is happily o'er,
When nuts in the copses abound,
She perfumes the breezes no more,
Her wither'd leaves fall to the ground.
She'll outstay the Piony bright;
She'll stay till the fall of the year,
When day is no longer than night.
When harvest is happily o'er,
When nuts in the copses abound,
She perfumes the breezes no more,
Her wither'd leaves fall to the ground.
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