lOVE SHUT OUT OF THE FLOWER GARDEN, 267 
Leave me to my new found peace ; 
Leave me to my late repose: 
Llere at length my troubles cease— 
Here my heart forgets its woes 
Joy, of purer influence born, 
Hope of loftier aim I know— 
Now thy stormy power I scorn ; 
Leave me, child !—thou need’st must go. 
Art thou fled without a word ? 
Closed the porch and barred the door: 
Are thy loved companions gone ? 
Fair-haired youth had flown before. 
Must I from each idol part; 
To each transport bid adieu, 
Which around my youthful heart 
Once its blest delusions threw ? 
Yet sweet Love ! with tears and grief, 
I thy wings receding see ; 
Sorrow still on parting waits,— 
Hope and joy retire with thee ! 
