62 DROPS FROM FLORA’S CUP. 
Yes ! thou wilt learn their power, 
When, cherished not as now, thou stand ’st alone, 
Compassed by sweetly-saddening memories,thrown 
Hound thee by leaf or flower! 
Shapes thou no more may ’st see ; 
The household hearth—the heart-enlisted prayer— 
All thou hast loved, and lost, and treasured there, 
Where thy best thoughts must be. 
Prize them, that when forgot 
By all, their old familiar tints shall bring 
Sweet thoughts of her , whose dirge the deep winds 
sing, 
And whose love earth holds not! 
Prize them, that through all hours 
Thou hold ’st sweet commune with their beauty 
here; 
And, rich in this, through many a future year. 
Bless thou our God for flowers! 
Or does some prophet voice, 
Murmuring amidst thy dreams, instructive say, 
‘ Prize well these flowers, for thou, beyond to-day, 
Shalt in their spells rejoice ?’ 
