love’s wreath. 
Ill 
And teach the maid 
That goodness time’s rude hand defies- 
That virtue lives when beauty dies. ’ 
—Waller. 
LOVE’S WREATH. 
When Love was a child, and went idling 
round 
Among flowers the whole summer’s day, 
One morn in the valley a bower he found," * 
So sweet, it allured him to stay. 
O’erhead from the trees hung a garland fair, 
A fountain ran darkly beneath ; 
’Twas Pleasure that hung the bright flowers 
up there, 
Love knew it and jump’d at the wreath. 
But Love did not know—and at his weak 
years. 
What urchin was likely to know?_ 
That sorrow had made of her own salt tears, 
That fountain which murmur’d below. 
He caught at the wreath, but with too much 
haste. 
As boys when impatient will do; 
