118 FABLES OF FLORA. 
‘ Thus shielded from the changeful breeze 
That blights thee with its sudden chill, 
The soft dews, stealing through the trees, 
My flowers with nectar fill. 
‘ Beneath my closely woven leaves, 
The bee-bird murmurs with his wings, 
While o’er me, on the cottage eaves, 
The linnet gayly sings. 
‘ Within, upon her snowy bed, 
A fair young creature, dying, lies — 
I know it by her drooping head, 
And large, clear, lustrous eyes. 
‘ O, joy it is within her room 
To throw the fragrance of my flowers, 
And, with some show of cheerful bloom, 
To soothe her lingering hours! 
* I read her blessings in her eyes, 
That rest on me through all the day, 
Like glimpses of soft April skies, 
Whose clouds have passed away. 
‘ Ere I my purple blossoms shed, 
Those eyes in endless sleep will close; 
O, then, lone watcher of the dead, 
I ’ll guard her soft repose. 
