22 THE lover's offering, 
There flowers shall bloom, and never fade, 
For blighting power will not be there; 
The body be immortal made; 
The soul a golden crown shall wear. Gr. 
When flowers die, hope does not. From 
the same roots a succession of flowers, 
equally beautiful shall come. And is there 
no hope for man who withers like the grass ? 
Shall he not live again? Yes, if virtuous, 
his future life shall be more happy, and 
grander than that which he has lived in 
this sin-trodden and mutable world. 
There’s hope when we behold a wither’d flower, 
That Spring shall Nature’s faded charms restore; 
There’s hope in those whom fate’s relentless power 
Has sternly exiled from their native shore; 
That yet may smile for them a brighter hour, 
When their transported eyes shall look once more 
On those they weep to leave, till fond hearts burn 
W ith all the rapturous feelings of return. 
Agnes Strickland. 
Oh! flowers! ye bring us lovely visions 
in the soft time of spring, and pleasant 
remembrances of sweet faces dear to 
us in youth, when the heart was filled 
