238 THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
The earliest snow-drop there shall spring, 
And lark delight to fold his wing; 
And roses pale, and lilies fair, 
With perfume load the summer air! 
Adieu, my babe ! if life were long. 
This would be even a heavier song ; 
But years, like phantoms, quickly pass, 
They look to us from memory’s glass. 
Soon on death s couch shall I recline; 
Soon shall my head be laid with thine ; 
And sunder’d spirits meet above, 
To live for evermore in love. 
THE ROSE. 
TRANSLATED 1 ROM CAMOENS 
Just like love is yonder rose :— 
Heavenly fragrance round it throws, 
Yet tears its dewy leaves disclose, 
And in the midst of briers it blows; 
Just like Love. 
Cull’d to bloom upon the breast, 
Since rough thorns the stem invest, 
They must be gather'd with the rest, 
