DROPS FROM FLORA'S CDP. 101 
TO A WITHERED ROSE. 
MRS. ‘WHITMAN. 
Pale flower —pale, fragile, faded flower — 
What tender recollections swell, 
What thoughts of deep and thrilling power 
Are kindled in thy mystic spell ? 
A charm is in thy faint perfume, 
To call up visions of the past, 
Which, through my mind’s o’ershadowlng gloom, 
4 Rush like the rare stars, dim and fast.’ 
And loveliest shines that evening hour, 
More dear by time and sorrow made, 
When thou wert culled, (‘ love’s token flower!’) 
And on my throbbing bosom laid. 
On eve’s pale brow, one star burned bright, 
Like heavenward hope, whose soothing dream 
Is veiled from pleasure’s dazzled sight, 
To shine on sorrow’s diadem. 
Bright as the tears thy beauty wept, 
The dewdrops on thy petals lay, 
Till evening’s silver winds had swept 
Thy cheek, and kissed them all away. 
