After The Departure Of A Friend. Poem by Susan Evance

SOFT the bud of pleasure spreads,
Like the rose on yonder tree;
Sweet the fragrance round it sheds,
Beautiful the tints we see.

But no sooner it appears
Perfect to admiring eyes,
Than a languid look it wears;
Ah! it fades- it droops- it dies.

Yet while o'er its wither'd leaves
Tears regretfully we pour,
Let us think, tho' Time bereaves,
He has blessings still in store.

Yes! tomorrow's Sun will see
Many a flower expanded fair
On that hedge-row's bending tree,
Which this evening blooms not there.

And the sorrowing heart forlorn,
Weeping now some comfort dead,
On a near approaching morn
Shall behold another spread.

Still each joy successive blows:
Here existence has its spring;
Every Sunny beam that glows
Fresh expanded blooms may bring.

Droop not then my lonely heart,
Look with hope to future hours;
Heaven will sunshine yet impart,
Life has yet some budding flow'rs.

And when earthly joys depart,
There is still a scene on high,
Where the sweets that charm the heart
Blossom fair- and never die.