FLOWERS BY THE POETS. 
23 
TS. 
THE ENCHANTRESS’ SONG. 
The Enchantress now begins her spelt, 
Thus singing as she winds and weaves 
In mystic form the glittering leaves :— 
I know where the winged visions dwell 
That around the night bed play ; 
I know each herb and flow’ret’s bell 
Where they hide their wings by day. 
Then hasten we, maid, 
**, 
To twine our braid, 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 
L 
The image of love, that nightly flies 
To visit the bashful maid, 
Steals from the Jasmine flower, that sighs 
Its soul, like her, in the shade. 
The dream of a future, happier hour, 
That alights on misery’s brow, 
Springs out of the silvery Almond flower, 
That blooms on a leafless bough. 
Then hasten we, maid, 
To twine our braid, 
, To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 
Lalla Rookh. 
ROSEMARY. 
There’s Rosemary, that’s for remembrance 
Pray you, love, remember. Shakspeare. 
