Каролина Фрай (Уилсон) (Caroline Fry (Wilson))

The Twin Roses

TWINS of one morning, on a single stem,
    Two Roses side by side were growing,
On each alike there hung a diamond drop,
    Fresh on its balmy bosom glowing.

I gathered one, the fairest as I thought,
    And on my bosom fondly plac'd it,
But ere the rapid hour had twice been told,
    Gone was the brilliant blush that grac'd it,

My Rose was dead,and then I vainly wished
    I had not cull'd the fresh-blown flower,
Yet many a sunny day it might have lived,
    With its loved Sister in the bower.

She flourished there as long as Roses may,
    By no rude hand untimely gather'd,
She lived,but Oh! 'twas but a little while
    Ere she too on her stem was wither'd.

I saw the rain fall cold upon her breast,
    I saw the worm her leaf consuming,
I saw her shrink before the northern blast,
    From day to day more palely blooming.

They who had grown with her had left her there,
    The summer's last and lonely flower,
Methought there grew a sadness in her look,
    As if she chid each loit'ring hour.

Nay, then, I did not wrong thee, my poor Rose,
    That from the stem I early took thee,
Ere yet the worm had nestled in thy heart,
    Or coldness chill'd, or friends forsook thee.

And may we say our Father does not well
    Briefly to gather what he planted?
Early to lay his hand upon his own,
    And take again the life he granted?

Why drop a tear of sorrow on the grave
    Of youthful hope untimely blighted?
They do but reach their home when it is day,
    While others here are left benighted.

They do not stay to feed upon the dross
    Of pleasure's draught so sweetly tasted,
Time will not bid them mourn their pleasant home,
    Into a friendless desert wasted.

Care will not wash one bright blush from their cheeks,
    With tears of trust and hope misgiven,
Sin will no more upon their bosom shed
    Its painful venom,They are gone to Heaven.