20 
language of flowers. 
the angel’s tears; and high in the air he heard a 
floating, unembodied voice, sweeter than that music 
which had cheered his lonely watch, when he kept 
guard beside the battlements of heaven, while the 
helmed cherubims flew forth to wage war against 
the fallen angels. It was the voice of her for whose 
love he had sacrificed heaven : and, kneeling amid 
the blue flowers, with clasped hands, motionless 
as a statue, the low, aerial music shaped itself into 
words, as it fell upon his ear; and he held his 
breath with awe, for he knew that it was now an 
immortal voice which said,— 
By the wold and by the wildwood, 
By lonely mere, and water’d lea, 
Haunts of age, and sportive childhood, 
I am doomed to follow thee : 
By the torrent it was utter’d, 
’Mid the flowers that round it blow, 
And upon the breeze was mutter’d 
The sad sentence of our woe— 
And each bud and bell that’s hollow, 
Bade thee lead where I must follow. 
Till the flowers thy feet surrounding 
Shall be planted everywhere, 
No shaded stream but what they’re found in, 
Throughout the summers of each year: 
