THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 211 
Smtrafo, ■ 
To thee — when morn is shining. 
My early homage tends ; 
To thee, when day’s declining. 
My evening song ascends. 
When grief is sternly swelling. 
And hope’s no longer free, 
I fly my humble dwelling 
To thee — to thee! 
Come forth — thy step is lightest. 
And watchful eyes may see; 
Come forth — thy smile is brightest. 
And I am proud of thee — 
Come forth — rich lips are parting, 
And thought appears in glee. 
And sunny eyes are darting 
To thee — to thee! 
To thee — upon the waters, 
I wake the serenade ; 
Thou sweetest of earth’s daughters, 
My gentle southern maid. 
Come forth — when thou appearest. 
Our path is bright and free; 
I bring a true heart, dearest, 
To thee— to thee! 
