Page:National Lyrics.pdf/85

Rose! too much arrayed
    For triumphal hours,
Look'st thou thro' the shade
    Of these mortal bowers,

Not to disturb my soul, thou crown'd one of all flowers!

As an eagle soaring
    Thro' a sunny sky,
As a clarion pouring
    Notes of victory,

So dost thou kindle thoughts, for earthly life too high.

Thoughts of rapture, flushing
    Youthful poet's cheek;
Thoughts of glory, rushing
    Forth in song to break,

But finding the spring-tide of rapid song too weak.