INTRODUCTION. 
LOWERS of the field, how meet ye seem, 
Man’s frailty to portray ; 
Blooming so fair in morning’s beam, 
Passing at eve away: 
Teach this, and oh, though brief your reign, 
Sweet flowers, ye shall not live in vain. 
Go, form a monitory wreath 
For youth’s unthinking brow; 
Go, and to busy manhood breathe 
What most he fears to know; 
Go, strew the path where age doth tread, 
And tell him of the silent dead. 
But whilst to thoughtless ones and gay 
Ye breathe these truths severe, 
To those who droop in pale decay 
Have ye no word of cheer?— 
Oh, yes, ye weave a double spell. 
And death and life betoken well. 
Go then, where, rapt in fear and gloom. 
Fond hearts and true are sighing, 
And deck with emblematic bloom 
The pillow of the dying; 
And softly speak, nor speak in vain. 
Of your long sleep and broken chain. 
And say that He, who from the dust 
Recalls the slumbering flower, 
Will surely visit those who trust 
His mercy and His power; 
Will mark where sleeps their peaceful clay, 
And roll, ere long, the stone away. 
Mrs. Hey. 
