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John Wall Callcott
(1766 - 1821)
With sighs, sweet rose
(A.T.T.B.)
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With sighs, sweet rose
(A.T.T.B.)
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Pub. 1800.
Lyrics: Miss Madden of Fulham
With sighs, sweet rose, I mark thy faded form,
So late bedeck'd with many a flow'ret gay;
Thy tender frame has shrunk beneath the storm,
And all thy charms are verging to decay.
Yet whilst I mourn, lov'd plant, thy early doom,
Poor hapless victim of the pitying show'r,
Reflection whispers, then again shall bloom,
And joyful feel the sun's reviving pow'r.
Returning Spring thy beauties shall renew,
Again the breeze shall waft thy sweets along;
Thy fragrant flow'rs, enchanting to the view,
Shall live forever in the poet's song;
Whilst I, with unavailing tears, deplore
Dear happy hours, that can return no more.
With sighs, sweet rose, I mark thy faded form,
So late bedeck'd with many a flow'ret gay;
Thy tender frame has shrunk beneath the storm,
And all thy charms are verging to decay.
Yet whilst I mourn, lov'd plant, thy early doom,
Poor hapless victim of the pitying show'r,
Reflection whispers, then again shall bloom,
And joyful feel the sun's reviving pow'r.
Returning Spring thy beauties shall renew,
Again the breeze shall waft thy sweets along;
Thy fragrant flow'rs, enchanting to the view,
Shall live forever in the poet's song;
Whilst I, with unavailing tears, deplore
Dear happy hours, that can return no more.