They whisper that her cheek has lost
The richly mantling glow,
Which told its own unconscious tale
Of life's exulting flow.
And well I know they deem her life,
At its abounding May,
Felt some dark sky's unkindly blast,
Some touch of still decay.
But O they know, they nothing know
Of all the nobler joys,
Which fill the radiant circle up
As fast as time destroys.
And still I'll deem, though grace and bloom
May silently depart,
The glow but leaves the rose's cheek
To deepen at the heart.
