It was a little budding rose, Round like a fairy globe, And shyly did its leaves unclose Hid in their mossy robe, But sweet was the slight and spicy smell It breathed from its heart invisible. ...
How beautiful the earth is still, To thee, how full of happiness? How little fraught with real ill, Or unreal phantoms of distress! How spring can bring thee glory, yet, And summer win thee to forget...
"The winter wind is loud and wild, Come close to me, my darling child; Forsake thy books, and mateless play; And, while the night is gathering gray, We'll talk its pensive hours away; ...
I see around me tombstones grey Stretching their shadows far away. Beneath the turf my footsteps tread Lie low and lone the silent dead, Beneath the turf, beneath the mould, Forever dark, forever cold,...
Love is like the wild rose-briar, Friendship like the holly-tree, The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms But which will bloom most contantly? The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,...