LOVE’S TOKEN -FLO WE RS. 47 
VIRGIN’S BOWER —Clematis Viorna. 
Filial Love. 
My father, weep not that my cheek 
Has lost health’s roseate glow, 
And look not thus with mournful gaze 
Upon my wasted brow; 
’Tis hard to die in early yc^Jh, 
When hope fills every breath, 
But only when I look on thee 
I feel the sting of death. 
Long since I knew it would be thus : 
Upon my sleeping ear 
Came the stern voice of death, in words 
Of anguish and of fear— 
And ’mid my waking visions, too, 
Within my silent heart, 
Tlrere dwelt the secret consciousness 
That I must soon depart. 
