THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 
29 
There moaning winds, thro’ leafy bowers. 
Would softly sigh to answering flowers 
And ceaseless requiems chaunt. 
And this were fitting sight to see, 
Sweet nature mourning o’er her dead, 
Like a fond mother’s tearful eye 
Watching her offspring’s bed. 
Sadly the Fairy gaz’d around 
On marble tomb and grassy mound, 
And sigh’d to think of all the woe 
That many living hearts would know 
For those who slept so calm below! 
But peace again smil’d o’er her heart 
When she beheld a grave apart, 
So hallow’d by affection’s light 
’Twas cheerful to the gazer’s sight. 
The lowly bed was planted o’er 
With shrubs and flowers. 
So chosen that their own sweet lore, 
Their “ mystic language ” might disclose 
A touching tale—the pale white Rose 
Was there of sadness deep to tell, 
And Hyacinth, whose purple bell 
Is eloquent of sorrow; 
And Violets of the azure hue, 
Which change not with the changing skies. 
And therefore are the emblems true 
Of faithfulness—Its fragrant sighs 
Sweet Rosemary breath’d around 
And, with its leaves of fadeless green, 
Spake of remembrance;—there was found 
The graceful locust too, which gave 
