SUR LA MORT n’UNE JEUNE FTLLE. 
Then die ! that she 
The common fate of all things rare 
May read in thee ; 
How small a part of time they share, 
' That are so wondrous sweet and fair ! 
(.Additional stanza by H. K. White.) 
Yet, though thou fade, 
From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise, 
And teach the maid, 
. iat Goodness, Time’s rude hand defies, 
And Virtue lives, when Beauty dies, 
Sitt la gtort Vrrn j emi e ft lie. 
Maleslicrbes. 
Bile etait de ce monde, ou les plus belles choses 
Ont le pire dcstin ! 
Et rose—file a vecu ce que vivent les roses-— 
L’espace d’un matin. 
