Beauteous rose-bud, young and gay,
Blooming on thy early May
Never may’st thou, lovely flower,
Chilly sink in sleety shower.
May’s thou long, sweet crimson gem,
Richly deck thy native stem;
’Till some evening, sober, calm
Dropping dews, and breathing balm;
While all around the woodland rings,
And every bird thy requiem sings,
Thou amid the dirgeful sound,
Shed thy dying honours round,
And resign to parent Earth
The loveliest form she e’er gave birth.
Manchester Feb. 12th 1809