DROPS PE031 FLORA'S CUP. 
31 
Of the bo we red cottage which I bade thee mark, 
When by the hamlet last, 
Through dim wood-lanes we passed, 
While dews were glancing to the glowworm’s spark. 
Haste! to my pillow bear 
Those fragrant things and fair, 
My hand no more may bind them up at eve — 
Yet shall their odor soft 
One bright dream round me waft 
Of life, youth, summer — all that I must leave. 
I bid mine image dwell 
(Oh! break thou not the spell!) 
In the deep wood and by the fountain side; 
Thou must not, my beloved! 
Hove where we two have roved, 
Forgetting her that in her spring-time died. 
