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CLASS XVIII. 

 POLYADELPHIA. 



' The young maid stole thro' the cottage door, 

 And blush'd as she sought the plant of pow'r ; 

 " Thou silver glow-worm, O, lend me thy light, 

 I must gather the mystic St John's-wort to-night, 

 The wonderful herb whose leaf will decide 

 If the coming year shall make me a bride." 



And the glow-worm came 



With its silvery flame, 



And sparkled and shone 



Thro' the night of St John, 

 And soon has the young maid her love-knot tied. 



With noiseless tread 



To her chamber she sped, 



Where the spectral moon her white beams shed : 

 " Bloom here bloom here, thou plant of pow'r 

 To deck the young bride in her bridal hour !" 

 But it droop'd its head that plant of pow'r, 

 And died the mute death of the voiceless flow'r ; 

 And a wither'd wreath on the ground it lay, 

 More meet for a burial than bridal day. 



And when a year was past away, 



All pale in her bier the young maid lay ! 



And the glow-worm came 



With its silvery flame, 



And sparkl'd and shone 



Thro' the night of St John 

 As they closed the cold grave o'er the maid's cold clay.' 



