Beneath thy mask shrouded, As Love knows, though clouded, In garb, then, resembling "Twill waft thee safe over ROSE OF THE DESERT. OSE of the Desert! thou, whose blushing ray, Shining uncourted, lone and safe, like thee. Rose of the Garden, how unlike thy doom! A moment cherish'd, and then cast away; Rose of the Garden! such is woman's lot, Worshipp'd, while blooming-when she fades, forgot. DO NOT SAY THAT LIFE IS WANING. O not say that life is waning, Or that Hope's sweet day is set; While I've thee and love remaining, Life is in th' horizon yet. Do not think those charms are flying, Beauty hath a grace undying, Which in thee survives them all. Not for charms, the newest, brightest, MY HEART AND LUTE. GIVE thee all-I can no more-- Much more than lute could tell. Though love and song may fail, alas! At least 't will make them lighter pass, And ev'n if Care, at moments, flings ECHO. OW sweet the answer Echo makes When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, And far away, o'er lawns and lakes, Yet Love hath echoes truer far, And far more sweet, Than e'er beneath the moonlight's star, Of horn, or lute, or soft guitar, "Tis when the sigh in youth sincere, And only then, The sigh that's breathed for one to hear, Is by that one, that only dear, Breathed back again! |