UNDER roses slept the maiden Rosa,
And a rose fell down and waken’d Rosa;
To the flower-rose, said the maiden Rosa—
“Rose of mine! O fall not on the maiden,
I am in no tune of soul to love thee,
For a heavy grief o’erwhelms my spirit;
Youth would have me,—but old age hath won me.
An old bridegroom is a worthless maple;
When the wind is up it faints and trembles;
When the rain descends, decay decays it:
But a young bride, is a roselet budding;
When the wind is up, its fair leaves open,
When the rain descends, it shines in beauty,—
When the sun comes forth, it smiles and glories.”