144 THE lover’s offering, 
THE DEW-DROP AND THE FLOWER. 
0 that lovely flower, 
Growing in my bower, 
With eye of azure hue; 
See on its breast, 
As it sinks to rest 
A sparkling drop of dew. 
What beauty it has got— 
’Tis called Forget-me-not J 
It has a language sweet— 
’Tis a pledge to me 
Of one soon to be 
My companion meet. 
The soft winds sigh 
As they vainly try 
My Forget-me-not to woo 
And bright stars above, 
Looking down in love, 
Shine in that drop of dew. 
That flower declares 
What a charge it bears 
To send my heart away, 
And fix upon my love, 
Whom I think is above 
The fairest and the gay! 
O that flower tell s, 
As with magic spells, 
Closing its petals blue, 
