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WHERE THE ROSES GREW.
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WHERE THE ROSES GREW.
HIS is where the roses grew,In the summer that is gone;
Fairer bloom or richer hue
Never summer shone upon:
O, the glories vanished hence!
O, the sad imperfect tense!
This is where the roses grew
When the July days were long,—
When the garden all day through
Echoed with delight and song;—
Hark! the dead and broken stalks
Eddying down the windy walks!
When the July days were long,—
When the garden all day through
Echoed with delight and song;—
Hark! the dead and broken stalks
Eddying down the windy walks!
Never was a desert waste,
Where no blossom-life is born,
Half so dreary and unblest,
Half so lonesome and forlorn,
Since in this we dimly see
All the bliss that used to be.
Where no blossom-life is born,
Half so dreary and unblest,
Half so lonesome and forlorn,
Since in this we dimly see
All the bliss that used to be.
Where the roses used to grow!
And the west-wind's wailing words
And the west-wind's wailing words
