Death of the Seasons. 



151 



Koses for the year 1855, aucl trust this hastily-Avrittcu aitich; 

 may be of some little interest with the lovers of Roses, among 

 whom I class myself, and I am really an old and faithful lover of 

 our Queen of flowers. Florist and Fruitist. 



DEATH OF THE SEASONS. 



[by miss ISABELLA STEVEXS.] 



HE face of Death -w^as passionless — " 

 ■^ A maiden fair stood on the green hill side ; 

 Her eyes, blue as the o'er-arching heavens, 

 "Were eastward turned ; a bright smile lingered on 

 Her parted lips, and mid her golden locks 

 Tae surlight played, shedding a radiance o'er 

 Her face — and Spring, fair Spring, thus standing forth 

 Half in the sunshine, half in shade, appeared 

 1 he fair embodiment of all that's bright 

 And hopeful. 



But she stood not long alone ; 

 For oer the distant hills with noiseless step 

 A white robed figure came ; onward it sped — 

 'Its face was ghastly pale — unearthly eyes 



Gleamcd'from that pallid face, and with their glances 



Of strange and mournful earnestness, they seemed 



To have no vision for the things of Earth, 



But peered their ardent gaze adown the dark 



Vistas of Eternity. 



Near and more near 



The figure came, and Spring felt a cold hand 



Clasping hers, and yet there fell no shadow 



On the grass — but her bright smile faded 



And her sunny brow was clouded — " Oh Death " 



Said she in mournful tones, " How had I hoped 



That Earth's inhabitants could greet me once 



With a full song of joy unmixed with woe ; 



I would have no trembling hands weave flowers, 



(My precious dower to earth,) in funeral wreaths ; 



Xo wounded heart to meet me with a tear. 



And morning say " what care I for thy gifts. 



Oh Spring, thy choice-t gifts, since those I loved 



Are gone ! Oh that I once could journey on 



