86 THE BOUQUET 



Thou art watching, and thou only, 

 Above the Earth's snow tomb ; 



Thus lovely, and thus lonely 

 T bless thee for thy bloom. 



Though the singing rill be frozen 

 While the wind forsakes the West 



Though the singing birds have chosen 

 Some lone and silent rest ; 



Like thee, one sweet thought lingers 

 In a heart else cold and dead, 



Though the Summer's flowers, and singers, 

 And sunshine, long hath fled. 



'Tis the love for long years cherish'd. 



Yet lingering, lorn, and lone ; 

 Though its lovelier lights have perish'd, 



And its earlier hopes have flv-wn. 

 Though a weary world hath bound it. 



With many a heavy thrall : 

 And the cold and changed surround it. 



It blossometh o'er all. 



