59
But not the blushing rose I send,
As my glad pledge to thee, my friend!
For thorns that brilliant rose surround,
And, like the god, his emblems wound.
I send those blossoms fair and pure,
That winter's stormy gales endure;
Those blossoms, firstlings of the year,
To sportive childhood ever dear.
Oh! still how fresh to mem'ry's eyes,
Those hours of childish bliss arise,
When in the deep and tangled dell,
I pluck'd the flow'rs I lov'd so well;
Or, on the primrose bank reclin'd,
Gay bouquets form'd, or garlands twin'd,
Deek'd hat and frock in flow'ry state,
And totter'd with the fragrant weight.
And still, no infant better loves
To view the primrose-spangled groves,
When, first of spring's enchanting train,
They bloom beside the verdant plain.
As my glad pledge to thee, my friend!
For thorns that brilliant rose surround,
And, like the god, his emblems wound.
I send those blossoms fair and pure,
That winter's stormy gales endure;
Those blossoms, firstlings of the year,
To sportive childhood ever dear.
Oh! still how fresh to mem'ry's eyes,
Those hours of childish bliss arise,
When in the deep and tangled dell,
I pluck'd the flow'rs I lov'd so well;
Or, on the primrose bank reclin'd,
Gay bouquets form'd, or garlands twin'd,
Deek'd hat and frock in flow'ry state,
And totter'd with the fragrant weight.
And still, no infant better loves
To view the primrose-spangled groves,
When, first of spring's enchanting train,
They bloom beside the verdant plain.
