Song #10 Poem by Christian Milne

DEAR MARY ! while youth's summer lasts,
Come, taste life's pleasures in our bloom,
Ere age, with its corroding blasts,
Lay beauty's honours in their tomb!
The rose, that hangs its blushing head,
And sheds its balmy breath around,
Is now admir'd; but, summer fled,
Its flagrant leaves must strew the ground!
Thus age contracts the polish'd brow,
And dims the lustre of the eye;
The rose and lily's beauteous hue
Must fail to hold their conq'ring sway!
Then, MARY dear! no more be coy--
Accept from me the nuptial ring;
Pure virtuous love can never cloy,
Since friendship grows as youth takes wing!