Last Lines of Frances Sargent Locke Osgood
A breathing flower -- a half-blown rose?And bid them bless my fairy girl!And doubt before I love!Art thou smiling in thy bower still, -- and is thy smile for me?As the sunny weather.Before I am a Rose!For there a hero lies!Heaven cannot see him!I had now been safe in my native bower!Lose not their heavenly hue.My Ellen! wake -- and tell it me!My heart echoes to it
I love!New England's Mountain-child!No! in future disclaim the sweet theft if you dare!Oh God! my boy -- my wife!Oh! sainted Marie! send this breaking heart relief!That fade in Love's deserted bowers!Unharm'd by tempest-shock, in Heaven's calm summer bower!When her little light feet first upbore her!Why would the silly rose-bud blow?