On the Reception of a Rose

O sweet, lovely flower, For me didst thou bloom In a far distant bower, My path to perfume? For me wast thou nourished, In that dear, quiet spot, To tell when thou flourished, I was not forgot?

Thine image, loved sister, In fancy I trace, And joy in the vision, To greet thine embrace; But here I have never Thy hand clasped in mine; Yet round us forever, Affection shall twine.

And oft this fond token Shall whisper to me, Of friendship unbroken, In remembrance of thee. Its freshness may perish; But ne'er can depart Its fragrance I cherish So deep in my heart.