FAREWELL TO THE FLOWERS. 
But not with grief or fear, 
Bow down the drooping head ; 
See ! in the chamber of jour birth 
Your dying couch is spread ; 
Go ! strong in faith, ye flowers ; 
Strong in your guileless trust, 
With the returning birds, to rise 
Above imprisoning dust. 
Hear we a whisper low, 
From withering leaf and bell ? 
“ Our life hath been a dream of love, 
In garden or in dell ; 
Yet wintry sleep we hail, 
And till the trump shall swell, 
To wake us on the vernal morn, 
Sweet friends, a sweet farewell \” 
MRS. SIGOURNEY. 
( 66 ) 
