THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 197 
And withers, and decays — ’twould almost seem 
As, by a strange and mystic sympathy, 
It felt the chill which circles round my heart. 
And knew that the sered feelings could alone 
Claim with the “ yellow-leaf 5 Vaffinity . 
Perhaps its freshness had too much the air 
Of the first paradise, still to thrive on 
Where human passions come, like darkling clouds, 
To mar, full often, nature’s loveliness. 
Or it might be that i ts green beauty wore 
Too much the coloring of hope and joy, 
To flourish long where they so frequent die — 
Too much the hue of thy young thoughts, whose themes 
Are brighter than the brightest things on earth ; 
Or else it was that I had found in it 
Something to love— something on which to dwell 
In confidence, that as it grew more dear, 
From habit, or association’s power, 
It would not leave me. How could I forget 
That all things are unstable — that to hope 
Is to be disappointed — and to love 
Is but to spend the heart’s deep energies 
Upon a wild and speculative dream ! 
ieee- 
Hawthorn. — Cretsegus. — Hope. 
Hope ! the sad lover’s only friend. — Cowley . 
Heliotrope. — Heliotropium. — Devotion. 
Cross your meek arms, incline your wreatned brows. 
And win the goddess with unwearied vows — Darwin . 
