FABLES OF FLORA. 
81 
Tears in the maiden’s blue eye stood, 
And gazing in the gardener’s face, 
She saw with joy his yielding mood, 
And clasped him in her fond embrace. 
‘ O, father, hear the Kalmia’s prayer! 
Back to its home the poor thing bear! 
‘ And pity not thy flower alone j 
Spare, spare thy poor girl’s breaking heart! 
What cares she for a monarch’s throne, 
If doomed from all she loves to part? 
Blest am I in my humble state — 
O, sell me not to him I hate! 
* He may adorn my brow with gems, 
And bring me every costly thing; 
But, like the flowers upon these stems, 
I, too, shall perish in my spring. 
Then pity on this floweret wild, 
And pity, father, on thy child! ’ 
The gardener clasped her to his heart— 
‘ It is too late to save my flower, 
But thou and I will never part, 
Till love can be thy marriage dower! 
So dry thy tears, my child, and be 
Poor as thou lovest to be — and free 1 ’ 
