THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 125 
And every sight and sound familiar to hei 
Undo its sweetest link—and so at last 
The fountain—that, once struck, must flow foi 
ever— 
Will hide and waste in silence. When the smile 
Steals to her pallid lip again, and spring 
Wakens the buds above thee, we will come, 
And, standing by thy music-haunted grave, 
Look on each other cheerfully, and say:— 
A child Lhat we have loved is gone to heaven, 
Arid by this gate of flowers she pass'd away ! 
THE QUEEN OF THE GARDEN 
BY MOORE. 
If Jove would give the leafy bowers 
A queen for all their world of flowers, 
The Rose would be the choice of Jove 
And reign the queen of every grove. 
Sweetest child of weeping morning, 
Gem, the vest of earth adorning, 
Eye of flowerets, glow of lawns, 
Bud of beauty, nursed by dawns ; 
Soft the soul of love it breathes; 
Cypria’s brow with magic wreathes; 
And to the zephyr’s warm caresses 
Diffuses all its verdant tresses, 
Till, glowing with the wanton's play. 
It blushes a diviner ray! 
