citocus. 
135 
THE AUTUMNAL CROCUS. 
HO WITT. 
Tiiy bower, with vine unshaded. 
Stands desolate and lone; 
The flowers of spring have faded. 
The summer birds are flown. 
Thy home— whose claims are stronger 
Than time can e’er efface; 
Thy garden — thine no longer — 
Have lost each look of grace; 
For the stranger’s foot has gone there, and 
left a ruined place. 
The past came o’er my spirit— 
Thy kindness, and thy faith ; 
And must thou grief inherit, 
And life’s undreamed-of scathe ? 
Is it thou — the gentlest, fairest. 
Like man must nerve thy heart, 
And teach him how thou darest 
Meet fortune’s keenest dart; 
Then look on all thou loved from youth, and 
patiently depart 1 
V 
