FLOWER OF AN HOUR, 
I AM GOING. 
“ One day young frolic Cupid tried 
To scatter roses o’er the hours, 
And on the dial’s face to hide 
The course of time with many flowers. 
“By chance, his rosy wreaths had wound 
Upon the hands and forced them on; 
And when he looked again, he found 
The hours had passed, the time was gone. 
“‘Alas!’ said Love, and dropped his flowers, 
‘ I’ve lost my time in idle play; 
The sweeter I would make the hours, 
The quicker they are passed away.’ ” 
“Why is it thus that fairest things 
The soonest fleet and die ? 
That when most light is on their wings, 
They’re then but spread to fly? 
“And, sadder still, the pain will stay; 
The bliss no more appears; 
As rainbows take their light away— 
And leave us but their tears.” 
Good bye, good bye, sweet dream! 
Fly back—fly back to Heaven! 
Ere daylight’s daring beam 
The veil of night has riven. 
For none save thou and I 
Must know what joy doth beam 
My precious pillow nigh;— 
Good bye, good bye, sweet dream! 
Fanny Fay. 
