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Poem by Mary Robinson

The Faded Bouquet

FAIR was this blushing ROSE of May,
And fresh it haild morns breezy hour,
When evry spangled leaf lookd gay,
Besprinkled with the twilight showr;
When to its mossy buds so sweet,
The BUTTERFLY enamourd flew,
And hovring oer the fragrant treat,
Oft bathd its silken wings in dew. 

SWEET was this PRIMROSE of the dale,
When on its native turf it grew;
And deckd with charms this LILY pale,
And rich this VIOLETS purple hue;
This odrous WOODBINE filld the grove
With musky gales of balmy powr;
When with the MYRTLE interwove
It hung luxuriant round my bowr. 

AH ! ROSE, forgive the hand severe,
That snatchd thee from thy scented bed;
Where, bowd with many a pearly tear,
Thy widowd partner droops its head;
And thou, sweet VILET, modest flowr,
O! take my sad, relenting sigh; 
Nor stain the breast whose glowing powr,
With too much fondness bade thee die. 

SWEET LILY had I never gazd
With rapture on your gentle form;
You might have dyd, unknown, unpraisd,
The victim of some ruthless storm;
Where fickle LOVE his altar rears,
Your little bells had learnt to wave;
Or sadly gemmd with kindred tears,
Had deckd some hapless MAIDENs grave. 

Inconstant WOODBINE, wherefore rove
With gadding stem about my bowr?
Why, with my darling MYRTLE wove,
In bold defiance mock my powr?
Why quit thy native, lonely vale,
To flaunt thy buds, thy odours fling;
And idly greet the passing gale,
On evry wanton zephyrs wing? 

Yet, yet, repine not, tho stern FATE
Hath nippd thy leaves of varying hue;
Since all thats lovely, soon or late,
Shall sickning, fade,and die like you.
The fire of YOUTHthe frost of AGE,
Nor WISDOM S voicenor BEAUTYS bloom,
Th insatiate tyrant can assuage,
Or stop the hand that seald YOUR DOOM.

Mary Robinson

Mary Robinson's other poems:
  1. Sonnet 24. O Thou! Meek Orb
  2. Stanzas Written under an Oak in Windsor Forest
  3. The Widows Home
  4. To Cesario
  5. Sonnet 44. Here Droops the Muse

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