SONaOFTHEROSE. 85 



Thoughts of rapture, flushing 



Youthful poet's cheek, 

 Thoughts of glory rushing 

 Forth in song to break, 

 But finding the spring-tide of rapid song too 



weak. 

 Yet, oh ! festal rose, 



I have seen the$ lying 

 In thy bright repose 



Pillow'd with the dying, 

 Thy crimson by the life's quick blood was 



flying. 



Summer, hope, and love 

 O'er that bed of pain, 

 Meet in thee, yet wove 

 Too, too frail a claim 



In its embracing links the lovely to detain. 

 Smilest thou, gorgeous flower ? 



O ! within the spells 

 Of thy beauty's power 

 Something dimly dwells, 

 At variance with a world of sorrows and fare- 

 wells. 



