LINES ON A ROSEBUD,FOUND IN A GARDEN IN NOVEMBER.
Oh say, sweet Rosebud, why thou ling'rest here,
While all around thee wither'd leaves are lying?
Did Summer throw thee from his golden car,
Or Autumn woo thee while the god was flying?
While all around thee wither'd leaves are lying?
Did Summer throw thee from his golden car,
Or Autumn woo thee while the god was flying?
Poor little rose, th' inconstant autumn's gone,
And left thee here neglected and forlorn;
I'll take thee hence, eve vet the north winds come
To bind in icy chains thy lovely form.
And left thee here neglected and forlorn;
I'll take thee hence, eve vet the north winds come
To bind in icy chains thy lovely form.
I'll nurse thee, pretty rose, with tender care;
I'll watch thine opening beauties as they rise;
I'll guard thee from the frost, and chilling air
Of mournful winter's dark inclement skies.
I'll watch thine opening beauties as they rise;
I'll guard thee from the frost, and chilling air
Of mournful winter's dark inclement skies.
And when, sweet rose, thy glowing colours fade,
And thou no longer to the eye art fair,
I'll send thy wither'd leaves to some vain maid,
That thou may'st teach a useful lesson there.
And thou no longer to the eye art fair,
I'll send thy wither'd leaves to some vain maid,
That thou may'st teach a useful lesson there.
Tell her, sweet rose, that colour too will fade,
Which now adds lustre to her sparkling eye;
Tell her that form must moulder in the grave,
And all those charms in sad corruption lie.
Which now adds lustre to her sparkling eye;
Tell her that form must moulder in the grave,
And all those charms in sad corruption lie.
But should firm virtue dwell within her breast,
The fairer beauties of th' exalted mind,
Then tell her, gentle rose, she'll be more blest,
And leave a nobler memory behind.
The fairer beauties of th' exalted mind,
Then tell her, gentle rose, she'll be more blest,
And leave a nobler memory behind.