THE LAND OF ROSES.
43
The Land of Roses.
Afar from these changeable, chilly,
Hyperborean regions of ours,
Lies a land that is melting in sunshine,
And sweet with the odor of flowers.
Hyperborean regions of ours,
Lies a land that is melting in sunshine,
And sweet with the odor of flowers.
A land where the broad Mississippi
Pours out her great heart to the sea—
Whose fair Crescent City gives promise
Of grandeur and glory to be.
Pours out her great heart to the sea—
Whose fair Crescent City gives promise
Of grandeur and glory to be.
'T is the goal of the Paradise-seeker,
Resplendent in vernal attire;
The aim of the tourist's ambition,
The invalid's longing desire.
Resplendent in vernal attire;
The aim of the tourist's ambition,
The invalid's longing desire.
There roses are everywhere blooming
On trellis, veranda, and wall—
Mareschal Neil, or the rare "Gold of Ophir,"
The fairest, and favorite of all.
On trellis, veranda, and wall—
Mareschal Neil, or the rare "Gold of Ophir,"
The fairest, and favorite of all.
A pink flush suffusing its petals,
The yellow of gold at its heart,
Make this the perfection of roses—
Beyond imitation of art.
The yellow of gold at its heart,
Make this the perfection of roses—
Beyond imitation of art.
Sweet roses run rife in the market,
Embellish the hot-house and lawn,
And tempt the admirer to purchase
Till roses have faded and gone.
Embellish the hot-house and lawn,
And tempt the admirer to purchase
Till roses have faded and gone.
