We would give a lovelier home on high,
With sister spirits around thee hov’ring!
“Then call not that thankless, which is in truth
The prompting of tender and true affection;
And pardon the sorrow, with which our youth
Sees ever in thee but a sad reflection!
For all the beauty and joy of our life—
All the loves and the hopes we so fondly cherish,
We liken to thee—and when they fade
We say—‘Like the Rose, how soon they perish!’ ”