94
THERESE.
A rose once pressed against thy lips,
Then gayly flung to me,
Is all the gift I treasure up
In memory of thee;
It bringeth back that golden time,
Too beautiful to last,
The glad and love-lit past, Therese,
The glad and love-lit past!
A rose once pressed against thy lips,
Then gayly flung to me,
Is all the gift I treasure up
In memory of thee;
It bringeth back that golden time,
Too beautiful to last,
The glad and love-lit past, Therese,
The glad and love-lit past!
Then comes the memory of the change
Which fell upon thy heart,
As falls the frost upon the rose
When summer suns depart;
And now returns that weary time
With doubts and glooms o'ercast,
The sad and mournful past, Therese,
The sad and mournful past!
Which fell upon thy heart,
As falls the frost upon the rose
When summer suns depart;
And now returns that weary time
With doubts and glooms o'ercast,
The sad and mournful past, Therese,
The sad and mournful past!