168 
THE MORAL OF FLOWERS. 
Seest thou my meaning ? youthful joy 
And hope may fade, like summer’s show ; 
But if thy disenchanted eye 
With freer gaze can look on high, 
Why let them go. 
Yea, go — without or sigh or tear ; 
For oh! if holier hope be thine. 
Think not thou’It lack, whilst wandering here 
A beam to light, a flower to cheer 
Thy calm decline. 
