Yes! time will steal the rose away,
The fairest form will soon decay
And like the lily bend to earth.
Yet still the bleaching hand of time
Must not be charg’d with fading mime
But scenes of grief instead of mirth.
And yet methinks; when age comes on,
And all the life of love is gone
When youth and blooming health are fled
The charms of virtue then will shine
Oh, may those charms be ever mind
And shed a lustre round my head.
April 24th 1816