THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
239 ? 
And when the rude hands the twin buds sever 
They die, and they shall blossom never; 
Yet the thorns be sharp as ever; 
Just like Love. 
-«- 
“GO TO THE FOREST SHADE.” 
BY MRS. HEMANS. 
Go to the forest shade— 
Seek thou the well known glade. 
Where, heavy with sweet dew, the violets lie, 
Gleaming through moss-tufts deep, 
Like dark eyes fill'd with sleep, 
And bathed in hues of summer’s midnight sky 
Bring me their buds, to shed 
Around my dying bed 
A breath of May, and of the wood’s repose ; 
For I in sooth depart 
With a reluctant heart, 
That fain would linger where the bright sun glows. 
Fain would I stay with thee— 
Alas ! this may not be ; 
Yet bring me still the gifts of happier hours! 
Go where the fountain’s breast 
Catches, in glassy rest, 
Tire dim green light that pours through laurel 
1 owers. 
