Page:The West Indies, and Other Poems.djvu/127

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Like these twin Roses spend your Time,—Life's little, less'ning span;Then be your breasts as free from cares,Your hours as innocent as theirs.
And in the infant bud that blowsIn your encircling arms,Mark the dear promise of a rose,The pledge of future charms,That o'er your withering hours shall shine,Fair, and more fair, as you decline;—
Till, planted in that realm of rest,Where Roses never die,Amidst the gardens of the blest,Beneath a stormless sky,You flower afresh, like Aaron's rod,That blossom'd at the sight of God.
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