Forget Me Not/1824/The Rose
< Forget Me Not | 1824
1.
Warm rival of the flame that dyes
The heavens, where morning takes its birth,
Pure, glowing Rose! how canst thou rise
So fresh with joy, so full of mirth—
Whilst conscious that thy gifted charms
Pass swift as summer's transient gale,
That neither can thy prickly arms,
Nor purple beauty aught avail,
An hour—an instant to delay
The killing stroke of quick decay?
Warm rival of the flame that dyes
The heavens, where morning takes its birth,
Pure, glowing Rose! how canst thou rise
So fresh with joy, so full of mirth—
Whilst conscious that thy gifted charms
Pass swift as summer's transient gale,
That neither can thy prickly arms,
Nor purple beauty aught avail,
An hour—an instant to delay
The killing stroke of quick decay?
2.
The full-blown heart, the smiling cheek,
That looks so happy, breathes so sweet,
I fear, already, whilst I speak,
Will wither in the ardent heat.
For all the perfumed leaves that glad
Thy heart, Love paid a purple pinion
From his rich wings; how sweet, yet sad
An image of his dear dominion!
The passions blossom, charm, and bow
To death, almost as soon as thou.
The full-blown heart, the smiling cheek,
That looks so happy, breathes so sweet,
I fear, already, whilst I speak,
Will wither in the ardent heat.
For all the perfumed leaves that glad
Thy heart, Love paid a purple pinion
From his rich wings; how sweet, yet sad
An image of his dear dominion!
The passions blossom, charm, and bow
To death, almost as soon as thou.
3.
He bathed thee in his own rich hue,
The blood divine of Beauty, she
Who, naked, pure, and rosy, drew
Her being from the frothy sea;
But this, oh this, voluptuous flower!
Can ne'er abate the searching ray;
That flame licentious, in an hour,
Thy bloom of beauty steals away,
Rifling thy bosom to its core,
Which, once expanded, shuts no more!
He bathed thee in his own rich hue,
The blood divine of Beauty, she
Who, naked, pure, and rosy, drew
Her being from the frothy sea;
But this, oh this, voluptuous flower!
Can ne'er abate the searching ray;
That flame licentious, in an hour,
Thy bloom of beauty steals away,
Rifling thy bosom to its core,
Which, once expanded, shuts no more!
4.
Fast pale thy burning wings, fast curl
Thy leaves,—the blithe bee, murmuring round,
Strikes them, and, one by one, they whirl,
Decayed and scentless, to the ground.
So closely joined thy life appears
With thy decay, that scarce I know
If sad Aurora, in the tears
She weeps for thee, would wish to show
Grief for thy birth or for thy death,
Sweet creature of celestial breath!
Fast pale thy burning wings, fast curl
Thy leaves,—the blithe bee, murmuring round,
Strikes them, and, one by one, they whirl,
Decayed and scentless, to the ground.
So closely joined thy life appears
With thy decay, that scarce I know
If sad Aurora, in the tears
She weeps for thee, would wish to show
Grief for thy birth or for thy death,
Sweet creature of celestial breath!