The Soft Blooms of Summer Are Fair to the Eye

The soft blooms of summer are fair to the eye,
Where brightly the soft silver Medway glides by;
And rich are the colours which autumn adorn,
Its gold chequer'd leaves, and its billows of corn.

But dearer to me is the pale lonely rose,
Whose blossoms in winter's dark season unclose;
Which smiles in the rigour of winter's stern blast,
And smooths the rough present by signs of the past.

And thus when around us affliction's dark power
Eclipses the sunshine of life's glowing hour,
While drooping, deserted, in sorrow we bend,
O sweet is the presence of one faithful friend!

The crowds whom we smiled with when gladness was ours,
Are summer's bright blossoms, and autumn's gay stores;
But the friend on whose breast we in sorrow repose,
That friend is the winter's lone beautiful rose.