love’s token-flowers. 
85 
Not in the humble cot, 
Whose walls no ray of fortune’s sunshine 
blesses— 
Where the dull weight of penury oppresses 
The hearts that wither ’neath their heavy 
lot,— 
The home of want—too oft the den of guilt: 
Not there has Happiness her mansion built. 
Not in the quiet nook 
Where the pale student his lone watch is keep¬ 
ing, 
While his high thoughts the bounds of time o’er- 
leaping, 
And, spurning earth, on things immortal 
look— 
The home of genius—wisdom’s calm retreat 
Not even there has Happiness her seat. 
Oh ! seek her not on earth, 
Where all the brightest hopes our hearts can 
cherish, 
Like flowers in desert isles, are doomed to perish, 
