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Poem by William Broome


The Rosebud. To the Lady Jane Wharton


Queen of Fragrance, lovely Rose,
The Beauties of thy Leaves disclose!
The Winters past, the Tempests fly,
Soft Gales breathe gently thro the Sky;
The Lark sweet warbling on the Wing
Salutes the gay Return of Spring:
The silver Dews, the vernal Showrs,
Call forth a bloomy Waste of Flowrs;
The joyous Fields, the shady Woods,
Are clothd with Green, or swell with Buds;
Then haste thy Beauties to disclose,
Queen of Fragrance, lovely Rose!
	Thou, beauteous Flowr, a welcome Guest,
Shalt flourish on the Fair-Ones Breast,
Shalt grace her Hand, or deck her Hair,
The Flowr most sweet, the Nymph most fair;
Breathe soft, ye Winds! be calm, ye Skies!
Arise ye flowry Race, arise!
And haste thy Beauties to disclose,
Queen of Fragrance, lovely Rose!
	But thou, fair Nymph, thy self survey
In this sweet Offspring of a Day;
That Miracle of Face must fail,
Thy Charms are sweet, but Charms are frail:
Swift as the short-livd Flowr they fly,
At Morn they bloom, at Evening die:
Tho Sickness yet a while forbears,
Yet Time destroys, what Sickness spares;
Now Helen lives alone in Fame,
And Cleopatras but a Name;
Time must indent that heavnly Brow,
And thou must be, what Helens now.
	This Moral to the Fair disclose,
Queen of Fragrance, lovely Rose.



William Broome


William Broome's other poems:
  1. The Oak, and the Dunghill
  2. A Pastoral
  3. Melancholy
  4. To a Lady of Thirty


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