Oh, thou, who art the fairest of earth's daughters,
Delighted could I sit a summer's day,
To drink the music of thy lips away,
Gushing their careless melody as waters:
And while I gazed upon thy full blue eyes,
Still list'ning to thy passion-kindling songs,
Deem myself happiest of thy votaries :
Thus while, the morning lark his notes prolongs,
Lists the rapt bard, and bending to the skies,
Sends up the incense of a grateful heart,
For such a gleam of heavenly ecstasies:
Oh, beautiful in feature as thou art,
More beautiful in mind-my thoughts of thee
Shall live in Love's undying memory.
Has lent life's wings a rosy hue ;
But ah! Love's dyes were caught above,
They brighten-but they wither too.
ROSE. BRIDAL.
Rubus rosafolius.
Class and Order same as foregoing. Rose Bridal is of the genus Rubus, which includes the Bramble family flowers white, usually double, small and very beautiful.
And all is ecstasy, for now
The valley holds its feast of roses,
That joyous time, when pleasures pour
Profusely round, and in their shower
Hearts open like the season's rose.
The flower which on Life's desert grows,
Unheeded in its young repose,
Till the mind's ray its shadows break,
And youthful thoughts their pinions take,
That lives the same thro' changing years,
Thro' smiles of joy-thro' Sorrow's tears:
Ay, Hopes may vanish as a dream,
Joys bring no warmth upon their beam :
It will bloom on tho' all should flee,
Changeless as angel purity :
The shrine where Life's sweet flowers are laid,
Ere a cold world has bid them fade;
Where beauty in her bloom attends;
And Hope in gay devotion bends,
And the young soul's unburdened wings
Go forth in joyous wanderings:—
That shrine is Love.
Native of Europe. A dwarf shrub. Leaflet fine. Flowers small.
The Rose is fairest when 't is budding new.
New England's daughters need not envy those
Who in a monarch's court their jewels wear;
More lovely they when but a simple rose
Glows through the golden clusters of their hair.
Could light of diamonds make her look more fair,
Who moves in beauty thro' the mazy dance,
With buoyant feet that seem to skim the air,
And eyes that whisper in each gentle glance
The poetry of youth, love's sweet and short romance?
Mrs. Little.
Beauty and Love-their emblems are flowers!
Their date of existence is numbered by hours.
Yes, love is but a dangerous guest
For hearts so young as thine,
Where youth's unshadowed joys should rest,
Life's spring-time fancies shine.
Then, sweetest, leave the wildering dream,
Till Time has nerved thy heart,
To brook the fitful cloud and gleam,
Which must in love have part.
Ah! life has many a blessed hour,
That passion never knows,
And youth may gather many a flower,
Beside the blushing rose.
Ladies' Magazine, vol. V.
Blown in the morning-thou shalt fade e'er noon
What boots a life that in such haste forsakes thee?
Thou'rt wonderous frolic being to die so soon,
And passing proud a little color makes thee.
And thou, with girlish glee, wilt go
To kneel at pleasure's shrine,
Nor e'er a thought on him bestow,
Whose every thought is thine.
The idlers who around thee press,
With careless praise will dwell
Upon that face whose loveliness
My tongue could never tell.
Those charms which my affections won,
The mind that I adore,
The form I still could gaze upon
Till life itself were o'er;
Each winning look, each winning smile,
That I have loved so long,
Will then some trifling fop beguile,
Or charm a heartless throng.
Perhaps the waltz, its luring charms,
E'en thee may tempt to taste,
And strangers will, with circling arms,
Profane thy slender waist.
And thou wilt fill a sunny void,
In Fashion's brilliant bowers,
While I, in plodding cares employed,
Drag on my cheerless hours.
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