THE FLOWERS’ HEAVEN. 
/ 
Nay, think not, loveliest! flowers die 
When from the stem they fall; for see! 
Their souls the withered petals fly, 
And find a Heaven in thee! 
Th’ exulting Lily glad ascends 
Unto its temple in thy brow, 
Where Mind with modest beauty blends, 
And wins Love’s purest vow. 
The Violet makes its happy home 
Within the depths of thy blue eyes, 
And seems more brightly there to bloom, 
In such a Paradise. 
Carnations on thy lovely lips 
In joyous beauty smile and glow, 
Ah! happiest flowers! but kisses sweet, 
And music e’er to know. 
The Roses, white and red, contend 
With loving quarrel in thy cheek, 
Where blushes, flitting like spring-cloud, 
Of thought and feeling speak. 
And since the ever envious Fates 
Condemn me far from thee to part, 
Permit the sweet Forget me not 
To nestle in thy heart. 
W. 
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