Felicia Hemans

“ Not such thy spells o'er those that hail'd thee first
In the clear light of Eden's golden day;
There thy rich leaves to crimson glory burst,
Link'd with no dim remembrance of decay.
Rose! for the banquet gathered, and the bier;
Rose! coloured now by human hope or pain;
Surely where death is not—nor change, nor fear,
Yet may we meet thee, Joy's own Flower, again! ”