But youth wasn’t past ere the wintry blast
The flame of her life out-blew;
There issued a breath from the mouth of Death
Chilling and killing the Rose of Peru.
And many and many a year flew by
In that World they call the New,
While marvels divine were wrought at the shrine
Of the blessed St. Rose of Peru.
(I should beat my breast and be much distress’d
If you call’d this part untrue.)