DROPS FROM FLORA’S CUP, 
77 
BAY LEAF. 
G. W. DOAKE. 
In bower and garden rich and rare 
There’s many a cherished flower, 
Whose beauty fades, whose fragrance flits 
Within the flitting hour. 
Not so the simple forest-leaf, 
Unprized, unnoticed lying — 
The same through all its little life — 
It changes but in dying. 
Be such, and only such, my friends; 
Once mine, and mine forever; 
And here’s a hand to clasp in theirs, 
That shall desert them never. 
And thou be such, my gentle love; 
Time, chance, the world defying; 
And take, ’t is all I have, a heart 
That changes but in dying. 
No, let the eagle change his plume, 
The leaf its hue, the flower its bloom, 
But ties round this heart were spun 
That could not, would not be undone. 
Campbell. 
