Classic Poem

When swing the morning-glory bells,
By marble pillar wreathing;
When o'er the perfumed violet dells
The morning zephyr's breathing,
That time I wander down a way
That myrtle sweet encloses,
And all about I pry and peep
For Love amongst the Roses.

A rosy brake I see ahead,
In golden vapour flushing;
My steps are winged, and on I speed,
The fragrant fortress crushing.
The dewy petals flutter fast—
The gap to me discloses,
Asleep upon the damask blooms,
Sweet Love amongst the Roses.

I stand entranced. O beauteous sight!
He looks so sweet and simple—
The infant curls of golden hair,
The crimson cheek and dimple.
His golden quiver empty lies;
His chubby hand encloses
A crimson heart, and thus I find
Arch Love amongst the Roses.