One blossom’s left to tell of sunny hours! 
But one sad relie of the host of flowers, 
Which short time since, thick scattered o’er the tree, 
Shone as the sunlit drops upon the sea. 
How beautiful, how beautiful were set 
Those stars in Summer’s golden coronet! 
Then Rose and Woodbine shed their fragrance round 
And in a glorious wreath the window bound; 
But Autumn, now, hath swept their beauty low. 
Woodbine and Rose alike hâve ceased to blow; 
Thy tresses, Jasmine, trail along the ground. 
And on them but one lingering flower is found_ 
How dear, how doubly dear, to see thee bloom 
Amid this scene of fading and of gloom ; 
To tell that, in the hours of doubt and eare, 
Still, if we seek, we find some blossom there,— 
Some hope to cheer us in our darkened way, 
Some star to shed around a softening ray ! 
