[from Collected Works, T.E.Brown]


GEORGE TRUSTRUM, ere the day be done,
I send a word to you.
Pale primrose masked the rising sun
The setting bids adieu
In roseate veil to all the fears
And all the hopes of bygone years
And I look back to joys long fled—
The boat, the " yarn," the height
Of Bradda’s crown ; but you, instead,
Look forward with delight.
God bless you ! may each sun that goes
Give you the primrose and the rose!


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