THE DYING GIRL AND FLOWERS. 59 
Spread them not before the eyes, 
Closing fast on summer skies ! 
Woo thou not the spirit back. 
From its lone and viewless track, 
With the bright things which have birth 
Wide o’er all the colour’d earth ! 
With the violet’s breath would rise 
Thoughts too sad for her who dies] 
From the lily’s pearl-cup shed, 
Dreams too sweet would haunt her bed; 
Dreams of youth—of spring-time eves— 
Music—beauty—all she leaves ! 
Hush ! ’tis thou that dreaming art, 
Calmer is her gentle heart. 
Yes ! o’er fountain, vale, and grove, 
Leaf and flower, hath gush’d her love; 
But that passion, deep and true, 
Knows not of a last adieu. 
Types of lovelier forms than these, 
In their fragile mould she sees ; 
Shadows of yet richer things, 
Born beside immortal springs, 
Into fuller glory wrought, 
Kindled by surpassing thought! 
Therefore in the lily’s leaf 
She can read no word of grief; 
