The rose in splendor blooms awhile,
The dazzling bride of summer’s bower;
So youth and beauty gaily smile,
And revel through their sunny hour.
But when the boon is gone and past,
What is there then which still doth charm
The hearts of those we prize the most,
And keep the glow of friendship warm?
When years and cares have bent us low,
Pressed by the chilling hand of Death;
What is it bids the impulse flow,
Which calms the last and parting breath?
O yes! There is a holy charm,
On earth, with human frailty given;
‘Tis nature’s purest, brightest gem,
Which always points the way to Heaven.
And would’st thou then the treasure find
Which doth this gift below impart;
‘Tis Innocence, that charms mankind,
And sooth’s at last the dying heart.