the dying rose-bud's lament.
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Nerved by a hope, warm, rich, intense,
Already I had risen
Above my cage's curving fence,
My green and graceful prison!
Already I had risen
Above my cage's curving fence,
My green and graceful prison!
My pouting lips, by Zephyr press'd,
Were just prepared to part,
And whisper to the wooing wind
The rapture of my heart!
Were just prepared to part,
And whisper to the wooing wind
The rapture of my heart!
In new-born fancies revelling,
My mossy cell half riven,
Each thrilling leaflet seem'd a wing
To bear me into heaven.
My mossy cell half riven,
Each thrilling leaflet seem'd a wing
To bear me into heaven.
How oft, while yet an infant flower,
My crimson cheek I've laid
Against the green bars of my bower,
Impatient of the shade!
My crimson cheek I've laid
Against the green bars of my bower,
Impatient of the shade!
And pressing up and peeping through
Its small but precious vistas,
Sigh'd for the lovely light and dew
That bless'd my elder sisters!
Its small but precious vistas,
Sigh'd for the lovely light and dew
That bless'd my elder sisters!
