9b POETRY OF THE ROSE. 



When true hearts lie wither'd 

 And fond ones are flown, 



Oh, who would inhabit 

 This cold world alone ? 



T. MOORE. 



WHITE ROSES, 



They were gather'd for a bridal ! 



I knew it by their hue : 

 Fair as the summer moonlight 



Upon the sleeping dew. 

 From their fair and fairy sisters 



They were borne, without a sigh, 

 For one remember'd evening 



To blossom and to die. 



They were gather'd for a bridal ! 



And fasten'd in a wreath ; 

 But purer were the roses 



Than the heart that lay beneath ; 

 Yet the beaming eye was lovely, 



And the coral lip was fair, 

 And the gazer look'd and ask'd not 



For the secret hidden there. 



They were gather'd for a bridal ! 



Where a thousand torches glisten'd, 

 When the holy words were spoken, 



And the false and faithless listen'd 

 And answered to the vow 



Which another heart had taken ; 

 Yet he was present then 



The once loved, the forsaken. 



