40 
The Poetry of Flowers. 
For as the rainbow of the dawn 
Foretells an eve of tears, 
A sunbeam on the saddened lawn, 
I smile, and weep to be withdrawn 
In early years. 
Thy leaves will come, but songful Spring 
Will see no leaf of mine ; 
Her bells will ring, her bridesmaids sing, 
When my young leaves are withering 
Where no suns shine. 
Oh ! might I breathe morn’s dewy breath 
When June's sweet Sabbaths chime ! 
But, thine before my time, O Death ! 
I go where no flow’r blossometh, 
Before my time. 
Ev’n as the blushes of the morn 
Vanish, and long ere noon 
The dewdrop dieth on the thorn, 
So fair I bloomed ; and was I born 
To die as soon? 
To love my mother, and to die— 
To perish in my bloom ! 
Is this my sad, brief history ?— 
A tear dropped from a mother’s eye 
Into the tomb. 
He lived and loved—will sorrow say— 
By early sorrows tried ; 
He smiled, he sighed, he passed away, 
His life was but an April day— 
Fie loved, and died ! 
My mother smiles, then turns away, 
But turns away to weep ; 
