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POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Thine is a short swift reign I know— 
But here thy spirit still pervading, 
New Violet tufts again shall blow, 
Then fade away as thou art fading. 
And be renewed ; the hope how blest, 
0 may that hope desert me never ! 
Like thee to sleep on Nature’s breast, 
And wake again, and bloom for ever. 
THE ROSES ARE GONE. 
The Roses are gone, their empire is o’er. 
And many who saw them, may see them no more ; 
Yet little it recks that we mourn they decay. 
For we are as fragile, as fleeting as they. 
What came with the Roses ? Sweet hopes spring¬ 
ing forth 
’Mid the sunbeams of heaven, the blossoms of earth. 
And the songs of the birds, and the breath of the 
flowers. 
Awakening a dream of life’s sunniest hours. 
What came with the Roses ? Dear thought of de¬ 
light, . 
That feared not extinction, that dreamt not of 
blight; 
