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THE MISSIONARY. |
6T |
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TWO ROSES.
The roses that you gave me, dear, I twined their stems together;
And laid them, in their beauty here, And loveliness, to wither.
And thus, methinks, like them, like them, These close-link'd hearts of ours
Will twine, till, as life's day grows dim, We wither like the flowers.
UN.
THE MISSIONARY.
'Twas a beautiful spot where they laid him to rest, 'Neath the shade of the broad-leaf'd palm;
Where the wild rose hung its bright head o'er his breast, And the zephyr was loaded with balm.
He had gone from his home to that distant shore
For a down-trodden race to toil; But his mission is ended, his labours are o'er,
And he sleeps on a foreign soil,—
Sleeps where the odours, that float o'er his tomb, Are so fraught with diseases and death,
That his partner has fled to her childhood's home, To escape from their poisonous breath. |
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