TO 
< r 4o?l^HL 
I have bound thee a garland of fresh blooming roses, 
The brightest, the fairest that nature can yield, 
The sigh that I ’ve breathed, on its bosom reposes, 
The tear that I’ve dropped, by its leaves is con¬ 
cealed. 
Then take the frail tribute thou loved one and wear it, 
At least till it withers, ’t will bloom but a day, 
And if, from your forehead, all faded you tear it, 
Think once on the giver — then cast it away. 
