FLORA AND THALIA. 187 



love's wreath. 



When Love was a child, and went idling round 

 Among flowers the whole summer's day, 



One morn in the valley a bower he found, 

 So sweet it allured him to stay. 



O'er head from the trees hung a garland fair, 



A fountain ran darkly beneath ; 

 'Tw£is Pleasure that hung the bright flowers up there, 



Love knew it and jumped at the wreath. 



But Love did not know, and at his weak years, 



What urchin was likely to know 

 That sorrow had made of her own salt tears, 



That fountain which murmured below 1 



He caught at the wrreath but with too much haste, 



As boys when impatient will do. 

 It fell in those waters of briny taste. 



And the flowers were all wet through. 



Yet this is the wreath, he wears night and day ; 



And though it all sunny appears 

 With Pleasure's own lustre, each leaf, they say, 



Still tastes of the fountain of tears. 



