HAST thou not seen the blooming rose
Turn to the God of day?
Her fragrant treasures all disclose,
Enchanted by his ray?

Hast thou not seen the sun decline!
Her bloomy beauty fade;
And joyless of his warmth divine,
Soon perish in the shade?

How say'st thou, love? thy bosom glows,
Bereft of thee , I fade;
My vanish'd sun--thy drooping rose
Will perish in the shade.

Thou art my sun--thou art my dew,
Spirit by which I live!
Come swift then, and a life renew,
To which thou soul cans't give!