FLORAL CEREMONIES. 133 
We seek the cooling fountain, 
Alas ! we seek in vain ; 
The cloud that crowns the mountain 
Melts not away in rain. 
The stream is shrunk, which through our plain 
Once glided bright and clear; 
Oh! ope the secret springs again— 
Allah ! Father!—hear! 
We bring thee flowers, sweet flowers. 
All withered in their prime ; 
No moisture glistens on their leaves. 
They sickened ere their time. 
And we, like them, shall pass away. 
Ere wintry days are near ; 
Shouldst thou not hearken as we pray— 
Allah! Father !—hear! 
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