Thus like the Starling in his cage,
He moulders on to life’s last stage;
And all his cry, and all his rout
Is, Well-a-day! I can’t get out.
THE FADED ROSE.
Yon Rose, that bloom’d with tincture bright,
That shed its od’rous sweets around,
And smiling with the orient light,
Diffused its beauty on the ground:
That gave its fragrance to the air,