TO 



I HAVE bound thee a garland of fresh blooming roses, 

 The brightest, the fairest that nature can yield. 



The sigh that I Ve breathed, on its bosom reposes, 

 The tear that I *ve dropped, by its leaves is con- 

 cealed. 



Then take the frail tribute thou loved one and wear it, 

 At least till it withers, 't will bloom but a day. 



And if, from your forehead, all faded you tear it, 

 Think once on the giver — then cast it away. 



