 | Poems by the late William Caldwell Roscoe |  |
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[What care I though beauty fading]
What care I though beauty fading,
Die ere Time can turn his glass,
What though locks the Graces braiding,
Perish like the summer grass?
Though thy charms should all decay,
Think not my affections may.
Die ere Time can turn his glass,
What though locks the Graces braiding,
Perish like the summer grass?
Though thy charms should all decay,
Think not my affections may.
For thy charms though bright as morning,
Captured not my idle heart,
Love so grounded ends in scorning,
Lacks the barb to hold the dart.
My devotion more secure
Woos thy spirit high and pure.
Captured not my idle heart,
Love so grounded ends in scorning,
Lacks the barb to hold the dart.
My devotion more secure
Woos thy spirit high and pure.
1843.
| Poems by the late William Caldwell Roscoe | |