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THE DEBUTANTE.
61
An hour together—time will then have chang'd.
The bloom and freshness of that fair young brow;
And, more than all, that guileless mind estrang'd
From the pure saint-like thoughts that make it lovely now!
The bloom and freshness of that fair young brow;
And, more than all, that guileless mind estrang'd
From the pure saint-like thoughts that make it lovely now!
How many a form, that meets us in the gloom
Of this dark world, and cheers the passing hour,
Must fade away, and lose its sunny bloom
Ere we again behold it!—like the flower
Whose buds at morning woo the pilgrim's eyes,
And fill the air with sweetness—till the shower
Or midday sun hath touched it—then it lies,
A drooping, fading thing, beneath the twilight skies!
Of this dark world, and cheers the passing hour,
Must fade away, and lose its sunny bloom
Ere we again behold it!—like the flower
Whose buds at morning woo the pilgrim's eyes,
And fill the air with sweetness—till the shower
Or midday sun hath touched it—then it lies,
A drooping, fading thing, beneath the twilight skies!
And such a fate is Woman's. What so fair,
So pure and lovely, as her morning prime—
Ere the heart's blight, or cankering touch of care,
Hath done the work of the destroyer, Time,
And stoln away her freshness—ere the hour
Has come, that comes to all things—when Decay
(The universal foe) asserts his power,
And sweeps with ruthless stroke youth, beauty—all away!
So pure and lovely, as her morning prime—
Ere the heart's blight, or cankering touch of care,
Hath done the work of the destroyer, Time,
And stoln away her freshness—ere the hour
Has come, that comes to all things—when Decay
(The universal foe) asserts his power,
And sweeps with ruthless stroke youth, beauty—all away!