I plucked the flower—blest wild rose!—
I set it blooming in my heart,
And said, “Should my sweet rose depart
To-day—the night its dear life close,
“The love it leaves shall ever live,
Shall ever grow, and bloom and bloom,
Shall go with me thro’ Death’s dark gloom,
And hope of glad reunion give.”
The flower, blooming, lived and grew;—
That sweet wild rose is blooming still;