LOVE NEVER FAILETH 



Across the moonlit sward Death stalks; 

 But Love upon this flower-strewn floor 

 Hath made me wholly his ; ah, then ! 

 Death stands outside the door. 



ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY. 



In Eastern lands they talk in flowers, 



And they tell in a garland their loves and 

 cares ; 



Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers 

 On its leaves a mystic language bears. 



The rose is a sign of joy and love, 



Young, blushing love in its earliest dawn; 



And the mildness that suits the gentle dove 

 From the myrtle's snowy flower is drawn. 



Innocence shines in the lily's bell 



Pure as the heart in its native heaven; 



Fame's bright star and glory's swell 

 In the glossy leaf of the bay is given. 



