THE DREAMER'S MISSION. 245 



combined to form the loveliest of earth's changes. But the 

 step of the sufferer grew feebler and his strength wasted until 

 he was no longer able to rise from his couch of weariness and 

 pain. His love for nature now centred in an intense desire for 

 flowers, and a morbid craving for the autumn fruits, which his 

 fancy pictured as the adornments of a scene he should never 

 again behold. Then it was, — when death kept watch beside 

 his pillow, — that he found the voice he had so longed for ; then 

 it was that his struggling feeling found utterance in the language 

 of poesy, and thus were his vain yearnings expressed 



Bring flowers, fresh flowers, the fairest spring can yield, 

 The starry gems of earth, o'er every field 



Scattered in rich display ; 

 Bring flowers, fresh flowers, around my dying bed 

 The sweetness of the sunny south to shed, 



Ere I am called away. 



Bring flowers, fresh flowers from every sheltered glade, — 

 I know the glory of their tints will fade 



Beneath my feverish breath, 

 Yet their sweet smiles seem to my wandering thought 

 With promises of bliss and beauty fraught, 



"Winning my soul from death. 



Bring flowers, fresh flowers, — ere they again shall bloom 

 I shall be lying in the narrow tomb, 



Mouldering in cold decay : — 

 Bring flowers, fresh flowers, that I may cheer my heart 

 With pleasant images, ere I depart, 



To tread death's darksome way. 



