Thomas Gent

Rosa's Grave

It is a mournful pleasure to remember the exquisite taste and delight she evinced in the arrangement of a Bouquet; and how often she wished that, hereafter, she might appear to me as a beautiful flower!

Oh! lay me where my Rosa lies,
   And love shall o'er the moss-crown'd bed,
When dew-drops leave the weeping skies,
   His tenderest tear of pity shed.

And sacred shall the willow be,
   That shades the spot where virtue sleeps;
And mournful memory weep to see
   The hallow'd watch affection keeps.

Yes, soul of love! this bleeding heart
   Scarce beating, soon its griefs shall cease;
Soon from his woes the suff'rer part,
   And hail thee at the Throne of Peace! 

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