TO 
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 renoses, 
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. 
