STANZAS. 



ON FINDING A FKESSED VIOLET BETWEEN THE LEAVES OF A VOLUME WHICH THE AUTHOR WAS BEADING. 



BY D. M. BURGH. 



►Some gentle hand has treasured thee, pale flower, 

 Within the foldings of this storied leaf; 



Art thou the record of some fleeting hour 

 Of faded joys, like thine own life, too brief? 



Wert thou not gathered at soft eventide, 



When by sweet nature's harmonies attuned, 



In the lone walk or by the green hill-side, 

 Two souls in mystic sympathy communed 1 



Bearest thou, unprinted on thy fragrant leaves, 

 A tale of Love, with all its hopes and fears, 



O'er whose sad dreams some heart still fondly grieves, 

 While memory's hand unseals the fount of tears ? 



Of gentle feelings, of emotions sweet, 

 Of fantasies by Love or Friendship framed, 



Thou art, in sooth, crushed flower, an emblem meet, 

 And thou, " Forget-me-not," art fitly named. 



