EVENING SONG. 
107 
Linger, oh linger at this hour, 
And let our hearts commune 
Together in this leafy bower, 
And listen to the tune 
With which soft Zephyr woos the flower 
Upon this night of June. 
The modest flower—who mildly glows, 
Ere yet the sunbeams leave, 
But shrinkingly itself will close. 
When fall the shades of eve. 
Meet pattern for the guide of those 
Who beauty like receive. 
The short-lived flower—whose life began 
With yester morning’s birth, 
But when a few short days have ran, 
Will sink again to earth ; 
True emblem of the little span 
Given to beauty’s worth. 
The fragile flower—which may be bent 
With blasts so roughly rude, 
And all its charms asunder rent, 
Upon the ground be strew’d ; 
Meet admonition, for all sent 
Witli feelings fine imbued. 
—The Editor. 
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