FLOWERS BY TILE POETS. 
Lastly by Lethe’s stream her footsteps strayed * 
And “ Oh !” she said in sighing, 
“ That I might dip, and my past life be made 
Like dreams with daylight dying !” 
The big tears, from her blue eyes raining down. 
Fell on earth’s pitying bosom ; 
Sudden there sprang, amid the sedges brown, 
Blue as her eyes a blossom. 
And o’er her head, soft rustling, sweet and low, 
As though some bird’s wing fluttered, 
In those loved tones whose loss was all her woe, 
“ Forget me not ” was uttered. 
No more ; no sight, no touch : these words alone r 
And “ Ah !” she cried, u forget thee ? 
Nay, but half love in our glad life was known— - 
Half love to regret thee.” 
Torget thee ? Nay, these flowers my tears besfot 
Shall be to me a token 
Of love ; they shall be called Forget-me-not. 
The name to cheer me spoken.” 
So well, sweet river-flowers, we welcome yo*X 
Earth with faint sadness scenting— 
Bom of the tears from Psyche’s eyes of blue. 
For her lost love lamenting. 
F. W. B., London Spectator. 
