Page:Forget Me Not (1824).djvu/346
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
310
TO THE ROSE.
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!