112 
A BIRTII-DAY BALLAD. 
I am shedding life’s leaves fast, Genie, 
Thou art in blossom sweet; 
But think of the grave betimes, Genie, 
Where young and old oft meet. 
THE FURZE 
Mid scatter’d foliage, pale and sere, 
Thy kind flowret cheers the gloom • 
And offers to the waning year 
The tribute of its golden bloom. 
Beneath November’s clouded sky, 
In chill December’s stormy hours, 
Thy blossom meets the traveller’s eye, 
Gay as the buds of summer bowers. 
Flower of the dark and wintry day ! 
Emblem of friendship ! thee I hail! 
Blooming when others fade away, 
And brightest when their hues grow pale. 
