HE TOLD HIS LOVE IN FLOWERS. 11 



Yet we were but children still, 



And our love, tho it seem d so sweet, 



Was well express d by the types it bore, 

 For it pass d away as fleet. 



Tho he brought me the Laurel leaf, 



That changes but to die, 

 And the Primrose pale, and Amaranth, 



Yet what did it signify ? 



For over his vaunted love 



Suspicion s mood had power 



So I put a French Marigold in his hat, 

 That gaudy and jealous flower. 



But his rootless passion shrank, 



Like Jonah s gourd, away, 

 Till the cold Chrysanthemum best reveal d 



The blight of its quick decay. 



And he sail d o er the faithless sea 

 To a brighter clime than ours : 



So it faded away, that fickle love, 

 Like its alphabet of flowers. 



