52 A SONG OF THE HOSE. 
A SONG OF THE ROSE. 
Rose ! what dost thou here ? 
Bridal, royal rose? 
How, ’midst grief and fear, 
Canst thou thus disclose 
That fervid tyre of love, which to thy heart- 
leaf glows ? 
Rose ! too much array’d 
For triumphal hours, 
Look’st thou through the shade 
Of these mortal bowers. 
Not to disturb my soul, thou crown’d one 
of all flowers ! 
As an eagle soaring 
Through a sunny sky. 
As a clarion pouring 
Notes of victory, 
So dost thou kindle thoughts, for earthly 
life too high— 
Thoughts of rapture, flushing 
Youthful poets cheek, 
Thoughts of glory rushing 
Forth in song to break, 
But finding the spring-tide of rapid song 
too weak. 
