ROSES.
“’Twas spring; the morn returned in saffron veil,
And breathed a bracing coolness in the gale.
Through the broad walks I trod the garden bowers,
And roamed, refreshed against the noontide hours.
I saw the hoary dew’s congealing drops
Bend the tall grass and vegetable tops;
The sprinkled pearls on every rose-bush lay,
Anon to melt before the beams of day.
I saw a moment’s interval divide