The flowers of a well-known fruit tree, originally 
brought from Persia. 
THIS HEART IS THINE, 
By the gloom that shades my heart, 
When, fair girl, from thee I part. 
By the deep impassioned sigh. 
Half suppressed when thou art nigh; 
By the heaving of my breast. 
When thy hand by mine is pressed; 
By these fervent sighs betrayed; 
Canst thou doubt my truth, sweet maid? 
Then say, oh! say you love me. 
Heart and soul more fond than mine. 
Trust me, never can be thine; 
Heart and soul, whose passion pure, 
Long as life shall thus endure. 
Take, oh! take me; let me live 
On the hope thy smiles can give; 
See me kneel before my throne; 
Take, oh! take me, for thine own. 
And say, oh'. say you love me. 
Eliza Cook. 
