DIRGE OE FLOWERS. 
307 
The glory of her summer bower. 
While skylarks soar above. 
Go, twine her locks with rose-buds, 
Or breathe upon her breast, 
While zephyrs curl the water-floods, 
And rock the halcyon’s nest. 
But oh ! there is another worm 
Ere long will visit her, 
And revel on her lovely form 
In the dark sepulchre : 
Yet from that sepulchre shall spring 
A flower as sweet as this ; 
Hard by, the nightingale shall sing, 
Soft winds its petals kiss. 
Frail emblems of frail beauty, ye ! 
In beauty who would trust 1 
Since all that charms the eye must be 
Consign’d to worms and dust: 
Yet, like the flower that decks her tomb, 
Her spirit shall quit the clod, 
And, shine, in amaranthine bloom, 
Fast by the throne of God. 
2 b 2 
