AND FLO AVERS OF POETRY. 
157 
Fond Love, who lives in my heart for thee, 
Had a message this morning he wanted to send, 
While Fear, who rvill ever beside him be, 
Cried: “ Better beware, my friend !” 
But then, sweet Memory woke awhile, 
And softly she told in Love’s true ear, 
Of a certain bewitching and eloquent smile, 
Which you have forgotten, I fear! 
Young Hope, who was listening, caught the sound, 
All beaming with light, she flew to Love — 
“ Oh! round my wings be your billetdoux bound, 
And I ’ll be your carrier-dove!” 
’Twas done — Hope went — (she knows the way 
By heart, for she’s travelled it oft ere now) — 
Ah ! send her back to me, sweet, I pray, 
With the same unclouded brorv! 
She will furl at your feet her weary wing, 
And oh! if the billet she bears be lied, 
Think that Fear must have followed and loosened the 
string— 
And just guess all that Love would have said. 
F.. S. O. 
O 
/ 
