30 
THE BOUQUET. 
A beauteous aspect to the scene. 
And told of love beyond the grave. 
These token flowers reveal’d that he 
Who slept below was unforgot, 
That fond and faithful memory 
Would linger long around the spot, 
The sacred shrine which love had sought 
For the dear idol of his thought. 
And, kneeling now on that low bed. 
The Fay beholds a woman fair, 
With cheek whose early bloom is fled 
And brow that wears the seal of care ; 
With eye whose dim and shadowy light 
Reveals a history of tears. 
And tells that grief’s untimely blight 
Has fallen on life’s Summer years. 
She’s weaving now a blooming wreath, 
A garland of the Fairy’s Roses, 
To grace and beautify the tomb 
Where her belov’d reposes. 
Mark, how the tide of woe is stay’d, 
And sorrow’s gloomy shadows fade 
From her pale brow and mournful eyes 
The while her pleasant task she plies. 
The tear-drops pause upon her cheek 
And linger there, and gleam awhile 
As night’s soft tears on mountain steep 
Gleam in the morning’s smile. 
While bending o’er those bright-hued flowers 
And drinking in their sweet perfume, 
There comes a dream of happier hours 
To cheer the mourner’s gloom. 
