36 
THE GLOBE AMARANTH. 
ILLUSTRATION OP THE SENTIMENT. 
Think not, beloved, time can break 
The spell around us cast. 
Or absence from my bosom take 
The memory of the past. 
My love is not that silvery mist 
Prom summer blooms by sunbeams kiss’d, 
Too fugitive to last. 
A fadeless flower it yet remains, 
And all its brightness still retains. 
Nor burns it like the raging fire, 
In tainted breath, which glows; 
All wild and thorny as the brier, 
Without its smiling rose. 
A gentler, holier love is mine. 
Unchangeable and firm, while thine 
Is pure as mountain snows; 
Nor yet has passion dared to breathe 
A spell o’er love’s immortal wreath. 
Anon. 
