Winter Rose

GOD'S benison upon each happy day
Dead now and gone!--its gentle ghost our feet
Doth follow, singing faintly; and how sweet--
Tenderly sweet, as through a luminous mist--
Its shadowy lips draw near us, to be kissed!
And though they melt upon the yearning mouth
Like fairy balm from some phantasmal south,
Their touch is magic; and we feel the start,
As of an unsealed fountain, close at heart--
Till, warmed, restored, breathing a fine repose,
Our innermost nature, wakening, glows anew;
While, gemmed by sunset memory's radiant dew,
Lo! the heart blossoms, like a Winter Rose!