ROSE, 
Beauty and Loye. 
Come with that true heart, all petty doubts scorning; 
Come with that smile, which is day to my night; 
Come with those blushes, that mock a May morning, 
Dear truant tell-tales of love and delight. 
Come with that step, like a flower-sylph in fleetness; 
Come with those tresses that gleam as they flow; 
Come with that lute-tone’s ineffable sweetness; 
Breathe on my bosom its melody low. 
Gem of a life, that is joyless without thee! 
Rose in Hope’s wilderness! bird of Love’s bower! 
Balm, light and melody floating about thee;— 
Which art thou, darling—bird, jewel or flower? 
F. S. O. 
