Nurs’d by the zephyr’s balmy sighs,
And cherish’d by the tears of morn;
O flow’r of flow’rs! unfold — arise!
O haste, delicious rose, be born!
Unheeding wish I no — yet awhile,
Be yet awhile thy dawn delay’d;
Since the same hour that sees thee smile
In orient bloom, shall see thee fade.
Cecilia thus, an opening flow’r,
Must with’ring droop at heav’n’s decree;
Like her thou bloom’st thy little hour,
And she, alas! must fade like thee.
But go — and on her bosom die;
At once thy throne and blissful tomb;
While envious heaves my secret sigh
To share with thee so sweet a doom.
Love shall thy graceful bent advise,
Thy blushing trem’lous tints reveal;
Go, bright yet hurtless charm her eyes;
Go, deck her bosom, not conceaL
Should some bold hand invade thee there,
From love’s asylum rudely torn;
O rose, a lover’s vengeance bear,
And let my rival feel thy thorn.
Charles A. Elton