FABLES OF FLORA 
95 
4 ’T is meet,’ the mourning lover said, 
‘ That flowers should deck my perished bride; 
I little care, since she is dead, 
How many wither at her side.’ 
The Rosebud breathed a gentle sigh, 
Whose sweetness reached his fainting heart; 
‘ I am content,’ it said, ‘ to die, 
But not till I this truth impart. 
‘ I would fain teach thee, ere I go, 
That though my form to death is given, 
In all its bright and youthful glow, 
My fragrance is exhaled to Heaven. 
‘ So thy young bride, on whose fair brow 
I find a holy place of rest, 
Has risen, in spirit, even now, 
And leans upon her Father’s breast.’ 
