If I should cease to bring a Rose
Upon a festal day,
'Twill be because beyond the Rose
I have been called away —
If I should cease to take the names
My buds commemorate —
'Twill be because Death's finger
Claps my murmuring lip!
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When Roses cease to bloom, Sir,
And Violets are done —
When Bumblebees in solemn flight
Have passed beyond the Sun —
The hand that paused to gather
Upon this Summer's day
Will idle lie — in Auburn —
Then take my flowers — pray!