8 VOICE OF FLOWERS. 



Yet, if like us, 



Poor erring ones, thou e er didst leave undone 

 What t was the duty of thy life to do, 

 Haste, and repent thee ! for the time is short 

 The Spoiler cometh ! 



Drooping on the stem, 

 Methought it meekly folded its faint leaves 

 For the last, voiceless prayer ; while unto me 

 A gush of fragrance was its benison. 



At morn I came. No more its bosom glow d ; 

 A heavy sleep hung o er its leaden eyes, 

 And dews like funeral tears. 



Oh, Friend ! whose gift 

 Was the dark bulb that veil d this glorious 



flower, 



And unto whom, in gratitude, I turn d, 

 As its rich charms develop d come with me, 

 And let us gather from its wither d lips 

 Some lingering sigh of wisdom. 



If we blend 



True love to God with every kindly deed 

 Unto our fellow man, and steadfast stand 

 At duty s post, still inly bow d, as those 

 Who feel the time is short may we not wait 

 For sleep s last angel, full of placid trust, 

 Like this sweet, folded flower ? 



