V. de Sola
Frail growth these blossoms had, so sad and few:
As when on some warm February day
An early rose unfolds her petals gay,
Enjoying for a space the sun anew,
But bends her stricken head as soon as due
Storm-driven mists come, and with icy spray
The hoar-frost falls from skies grown cold and grey,
While hill and dale are decked in snowy hue.
Thus did your beauty's sun upon me smile -
A radiance I would search for and pursue
To warm the petals of my love awhile.
But false that sunshine proved. Then they must rue
Their error in a frost naught could beguile,
As over them malignant storm clouds flew.