Charles Swain

The Rose Thou Gav'st

The rose thou gav'st at parting-- 
  Hast thou forgot the hour? 
The moon was on the river, 
  The dew upon the flower: 
Thy voice was full of tenderness,
  But, ah! thy voice misleads; 
The rose is like thy promises, 
  Its thorn is like thy deeds. 
 
The winter cometh bleakly, 
  And dark the time must be;
But I can deem it summer 
  To what thou'st prov'd to me. 
The snow that meets the sunlight 
  Soon hastens from the scene; 
But melting snow is lasting,
  To what thy faith hath been.