To
Mrs. W. H. Grenelle,
New York.
"The Withered Rose" (1859)
Words by
William Downing Evans.
Music by
John Rogers Thomas, 1830-1896

New York: William Hall & Son, 543 Broadway
(between Spring and Prince Sts.)
Boston: Henry Tolman
New Orleans: P. P. Werlein
Louisville: D. P. Faulds & Co.
Plate No. 4452
[Source: @NYPL]

1. I clasp the flow’ret to my breast, 
Although its lustre all is gone, 
The withered, dry leaves here shall rest, 
And in rich perfume, in rich perfume still live on; 
It seems as though it breathed of thee, 
And spoke of all thy virtues rare, 
Assisting grateful memory, 
The odour of thy name to bear. 

[REFRAIN sung after each verse]
I clasp the flow’ret to my breast, 
Although its lustre all is gone, 
The withered dry leaves here shall rest, 
And in rich perfume still live on. 

2. In vain they tell me thou art dead; 
The fragrance of thy living love 
Is poured, like dew upon my head, 
From thy new paradise, thy paradise above; 
And ever more, like this wan flow’r, 
Thy spirit’s sweetness shall retain 
The pow’r to charm, till life’s last hour, 
Unite our severed hearts again.