& GARDENS, WREATHS, &c. 
Bring fruits — rich fruits — earth’s fairest gifts are vain 
To minister relief to the dull pain 
That steals upon my heart; 
Yet bring me fruits and flowers — they still have 
power 
To charm if not prolong life’s little hour — 
Bring flowers ere I depart. 
TO AN AUTUMN ROSE. 
CHARLES F. HOFFMAN. 
Tell her I love her — love her for those eyes 
Now soft with feeling, radiant now with mirth 
Which, like a lake reflecting autumn skies, 
Reveal two heavens here to us on Earth — 
The one in which their soulful beauty lies, 
And that wherein such soulfulness has birth. 
Go to my lady ere the season flies, 
And the rude winter comes thy bloom to blast — 
Go! and with all of Eloquence thou hast, 
The burning story of my love discover, 
And if the theme should fail, alas ! to move her, 
Tell her when youth’s gay summer-flowers are past 
Like thee, my love, will blossom till the last! 
V 
