Rose held in a vase of clearest glaze
Up from wat'ry sunlight-grave ascending
Every time from nature's mourning gaze
Her close friend to other worlds is wending!

Moon's pale visage, in lone blush for you,
Dares observe your crimson petal cluster;
Heavens' stars maintain their distant view,
Lovers, though with silent, hidden lustre.

Beauteous heav'nly flower of light and air,
Of the purest ones a holy daughter!
Evening garners all spring's fragrance fair
In your crimson calyx as an altar.

Night, alas, advances from the east,
Its domain so stealthily diffusing;
Heav'nly rose! for eyes though still a feast,
You anon dull petals must be losing.

Roses! your sweet sister's life is told,
Weep in tribute dear your dew of mourning!
Larks! rejoice when you again behold
Hope's sweet rose on eastern peaks of morning!