FLORA'S INTERPRETER. 171 



ROSE, DAILY. 

 Rosa quotidiana. 



LEVITY. 



Thou blushing rose! 



Blown in the morning thou shall fade ere noon: 

 What boots a life that in such haste forsakes thee 1 

 Thou 'rt wondrous frolic being to die so soon, 

 And passing proud a little color makes thee. 



Sir Richard Fanshaw. 



SENTIMENT. 



And thou, with girlish glee, wilt go 

 To kneel at pleasure's shrine, 



Nor e'er a thought on him bestow, 

 Whose every thought is thine. 



The idlers who around thee press, 

 With careless praise will dwell 



Upon that face whose loveliness 

 My tongue could never tell. 



Those charms which my affections won, 



The mind that I adore, 

 The form I still could gaze upon 



Till life itself were o'er: 



Each winning look, each winning smile, 



That I have loved so long, 

 Will then some trifling fop beguile, 



Or charm a heartless throng. 



But why do I at ills repine, 

 Which still I may not meet? 



This heart, whose every pulse is thine, 

 Ere then may cease to beat! 



And still thou 'It move where'er are met 



The careless and the gay, 

 And soon my memory forget, 



When I have passed away. 



Token for 1829 



