There clung three roses to a stem,
Did all their hues of summer don,
But came a wind and troubled them,
And all were gone.
I heard three bells in unison
Clap out some transient heart's delight,
Time and the hour brought silence on
And the dark night.
Doth not Orion even set!
O love, love, prove true alone,
Till youthful hearts ev'n love forget,
Then, child, begone!
Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE,
(late) Printers to Her Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press