HONE YSUCKLE. 
I saw him not till his manly brow 
Was clouded with thought and care, 
And the smile of youth, and its beauty, 
No longer wantoned there. 
Go, twine thee a crown of the ivy tree, 
And gladden thy loaded breast: 
Bright days may yet shine out for thee, 
And thy bosom again know rest. 
Long years rolled on,—and I saw again 
His form in hoary age ; 
His forehead was deeply furrowed then, 
In life’s last feeble stage. 
O be thy crown, old man, I said, 
Of the yew and the cypress made, 
A gailand meet for thy silvered head 
Ere it low in the tomb be laid. 
And such is Life, and such is Man 
In his fleeting course below: 
His little day, that in joy began, 
Must proceed and end in woe \ 
But another day shall weave for him 
A garland that will not die, 
And his cup of bliss shall o’erflow its brim 
He shall live eternally. 
HONEYSUCKLES. 
KEATS. 
Dew-sweet eglantine, 
And honeysuckles full of clear bee-wine. 
