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sweet lavender. 
Which meets the morn and evening hour, 
Ihe storm, the sunshine, and the shower, 
And changeth not its hue. 
In cottage-maid’s parterre thou’rt seen. 
In simple touching grace ; 
And in the garden of the queen, 
costly plants and blossoms sheen, 
Thou also hast a place. 
The rose, with bright and peerless bloom, 
Attracted many eyes; 
But while her glories and perfume 
Expire before brief summer’s doom, 
Thy fragrance never dies. 
Thou art not like the fickle train 
Our adverse fates estrange ; 
Who, in the day of grief and pain, 
Are found deceitful, light, and vain, 
For thou dost neverchange. 
But thou art emblem of the friend, 
Who, whatsoe’er our lot. 
The balm of faithful love will lend 
And, true and constant to the end, 
May die, but alters not. 
—Mm Strickland. 
