66 love’s t oke n -fl o we rs. 
CYPRESS.—C dp res so s Sempebviems. 
Despair. 
They deck thee as a bride, 
They dress me for the bier, 
Thy bosom thrills with pride, 
And mine with solemn fear, 
For Love is at thy side, 
While Death to me draws near. 
No longer on the blast 
' My heart’s deep wail I pour ; 
My life-long dream is past, 
And passion rules no more ; 
I’ve loved thee to the last, 
But now e’en love is o’er 
Upon thy bridal day 
It may be we shall meet, 
' Thou in thy bright array, 
I in my winding sheet. \ 
