100 FLORA AND THALIA, 



I'll not leave thee, thou Ion 



To pine on the stem ; 

 Since the lovely are sleeping, 



Go, sleep thou with them. 

 Thus kindly I scatter 



Thy leaves on the bed, 

 Where thy mates of the garden 



Lie scentless and dead. 



So soon may I follow. 

 When friendships decay, 



And from love's shining circle 

 The gems drop away ; 



When true hearts lie withered, 



And fond ones are flown, 

 Oh ! who would inhabit 



This cold world alone ? 



T. MOORE. 



