deceive. You tell me the tale which a million times Has been told, and talked, and sung in rhymes; You rave o'er my "eyes" and my "beautiful hair," And swear to be true, as they always swear; But the wrinkles will grow, and the roses go, And lovers are rovers oft, you know, When the roses go. 

I have heard of a woman, sweet and fair, With dewy lips and shining hair, And you pledged to her, on your bended knee, The self-same vow you make to me. She was fairer than I, I know; She was pure and true, and she loved you so; But the wrinkles will grow and the roses go— How she learned that trouble comes, you know, When the roses go. 

You're a man in each outward sense, I trow, With the stamp of a god on your peerless brow. You hold my hand in your thrilling clasp, And my heart grows weak in your subtle grasp, Till I blush in the light of your tender eyes, And dream of a far-of paradise— Almost forgetting that ever from there Another was turned in her bleak despair. But the wrinkles will grow, and the roses go— I will answer you, love, my love, you know, When the roses go. 

 

     THE DIFFERENCE. 

With odds all against him, struggling to gain, From fortune a name, with life to maintain, Toiling in sunshine, toiling in rain, Never waiting a blessing Heaven-sent, Working and winning his way as he went— Whether he starved, or sumptuously fared, Nobody knew and nobody cared. 

With success-crowned effort that fate had defied, That wrought out from fortune what favor denied, Standing aloof from the world in his pride; The niche he has carved on fame's slippery wall Friends are proclaiming with heraldry-call. His Croesus-bright scepter has magical sway, Yester's indifference solicits to-day. His daring his triumph, how daily he fares, Every one knows, and anxiously cares. 

 

     BEWARE. 

Beautiful maiden, So daintily fair, Thy rose-hued lips, Thy soft, flowing hair, Symmetric perfection, Sweet, winning face, The charms that thou wearest A palace might grace; And yet thy bright beauty May wreck and despair. Beautiful maiden, Beware! oh, beware! 

There are flattering tongues That 'twere death to believe, And loves who woo But to win and deceive; For innocent feet There is many a snare. Beautiful maiden, Beware! oh, beware! 

 

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