28 
I CHANGE BUT IN DYING. 
BAY LEAF. 
Laurus , 
Language — I CHANGE BUT IN DYING. 
In bower and garden rich and rare 
There’s many a cherished flower, 
Whose beauty fades, whose fragrance dies 
Within the flitting hour. 
Not so the simple forest leaf, 
Unprized, unnoticed, lying: 
The same through all its little life, 
It changes but in dying. 
Be such, and only such, my friends ; 
Once mine, and mine forever ; 
And here’s a hand to clasp in theirs, 
That shall desert them never. 
And thou be such, my gentle love, 
Time, chance, the world defying; 
And take — ’tis all I have — a heart 
That changes but in dying. 
G. W. Doane. 
Farewell! there’s but one pang in death, 
One only — leaving thee ! 
* 
