Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne — On a Rose

How short, sweet flower, have all thy beauties been,

An hour they bloom'd, and now no more are seen:

So human grandeur fades, so dies away;

Beauty and wealth remain but for a day.

But virtue lives for ever in the mind,

In her alone true happiness we find:

The perfume stays, altho' the rose be dead;

So virtue lives, when every grace is fled.