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THE LOVER’S OFFERING, 
And oft when storms are raging round, 
Striking the strongest to the ground, . 
Thou spreadst thy leaflets down the wind 
With yielding grace, content to find 
Thy safety thus. 
And when stern Winter scatters all 
Thy pride, thy summer coronal, 
Though stripped of all thy leafy screen, 
Yet in thy native grace thou’rt seen 
Wifh rvleaP"'-" anil. 
Even so would I, while sunbeams play, 
With grateful heart enjoy the day ; 
And thus when sorrows gather fast, 
I’d bend beneath the chilling blast, 
And humblv trust. 
THE BROKEN FLOWER. 
Oh! wear it on thy heart, my love! 
Still, still a little while! 
Sweetness is lingering in its leaves, 
Though faded be their smile. 
Yet for the sake of what hath been, 
Oh, cast it not away! 
’Twas born to grace a summer scene, 
A long, bright, golden day, 
My love! 
A long, bright, golden day! 
