S 4 
Floral Poetry, 
THE CYPRESS WREATH. 
LADY, twine no wreath for me, 
^ Or twine it of the Cypress tree ! 
Too lively grow the Lilies light, 
The varnished Holly’s all too bright, 
The May-flower and the Eglantine 
May shade a brow less sad than mine; 
But, Lady, weave no wreath for me, 
Or weave it of the Cypress tree! 
Let dimpled Mirth his temples twine 
With tendrils of the laughing Vine ; 
The manly Oak, the pensive Yew, 
To patriot and to sage be due; 
The Myrtle bough bids lovers live, 
But that Matilda will not give ; 
Then, Lady, twine no wreath for me, 
Or twine it of the Cypress tree ! 
Let merry England proudly rear 
Her blended Roses, bought so dear 3 
Let Albin bind her bonnet blue 
With Heath and Harebell dipped in dew; 
On favoured Erin’s crest be seen 
The flower she loves of emerald green - 
But, Lady, twine no wreath for me, 
Or twine it of the Cypress tree. 
