46 love’s token-flowers. 
When never more my weary steps of pain 
Around thee move, 
When loosed for ever is thy heavy chain— 
“Love will win love.” 
WHITE ROSE.—Rosa Alba. 
“ I am worthy of you.” 
When ’mid the festive scene we meet, 
To joyous bosoms dear, 
Though other voices fall more sweet 
Upon thy listening ear, 
Yet scorn not thou my ruder tone ; 
Oh! think my heart is all thine own, 
And love me still. 
When o’er young Beauty’s cheek of rose 
Thine eye delighted strays, 
Half proud to watch the blush that glows 
Beneath thine ardent gaze, 
Oh 1 think that but for sorrow’s blight 
My faded cheek had yet been bright, 
And love me stilL 
