FLORAL KEEPSAKE. 9 



Thy smile, thy voice, thy dear caress ; 

 Oh ! yes, thou hast the power to bless ; 

 I breathe, I move in scenes of joy, 

 Which even waking can't destroy ; 

 Thine image still doth o'er me bend, 

 And Hope to Fancy's wing doth lend 

 A trembling bliss ! like sunset-ray 

 On spring's first flower at close of day. 



It was stolen from her Boudoir by her lover, and now appears for 

 the first time ! 



There is another glittering gem before us, in the handwriting 

 of Letitia E. Landon. It was written after her heart had been 

 chilled by the winter-storm that fell on her gifted spirit in the 

 summer of her life. Not long before her death (and when her 

 heart was broken), a female friend had gathered for her a cluster 

 of violets, and she wrote the following touching lines which are 

 among the last she ever penned. We were told by the lady who 

 gave them to us, and for whom they were written, that no copy of 

 them had ever been made : 



THE VIOLET. 



Why better than the lady-rose 



Love I this little flower ? 

 Because its purple leaves Were those 



I loved in childhood's hour. 



Tho' many a flower may win my praise, 



The violet has my love ; 

 I did not pass my childish days 



In garden or in grove : 



My garden was the window-seat ; 



Upon whose edge was set 

 A little vase the fair, the sweet, 



It was the violet. 



