Time, since thou gav'st this flow'r to me,
Has often turn'd his glass of sand;
Perchance‘ tis now unknown to thee
That once its breath perfum'd thy hand.
Oh, lovely maid! that thou may'st see
How much thy gifts my care engage,
I've sent the cherish'd flow'r to thee
Without a blemish, but from age.
Kiss but its leaves;— one kiss from thee,
And all its sweetness‘ twill regain;
And, if I live in memory
Thus honour'd, send it back again!