26 
GARDENS, WREATHS, &c. 
Let them thy Bridal Chaplet twine. 
Whose hands are skilful to combine 
The buds of hope, and flowers of joy ; 
Whose happier lot hath let them know 
The bowers of Eden where they grow ; 
From whom they shrink not at the touch— 
The pastime sweet, and meet for such, 
Would heart and fancy both employ. 
But ask not me the wreath to twine. 
In whom both grief and sickness join 
To render for the task unfit; 
The cloud hath blotted out my day, 
My dreams of bliss have fled away ; 
My pleasures scatter’d to the wind, 
Have left but loneliness behind, 
Where gladness promised once to sit. 
And yet for thee a wreath I’ll twine.— 
Some flowers unfading still are mine;— 
The proffer’d garland thou must tie : 
’Midst the abundance that she yields, 
I glean them not from nature’s fields; 
Nor soar aloft on fancy’s wings, 
To crop them from Parnassian springs; 
For both are doomed to fade and die. 
Come, then, a chaplet I’ll prepare, 
To crown thy heart, not deck thy hair— 
Approach—and take the gift divine ; 
