






72 
THE BOUQUET. 
Se ne eee ee 8 eee 
LOCUST. 
RoBINIA PSEUDO-ACACIA 
Affection beyond the grave. 
StRone as the death it masters, is the hope 
That onward looks to immortality: 
Let the frame perish, so the soul survive, 
Pure, spiritual, and loving. I believe 
The grave exalts, not separates, the tie 
That holds us in affection to our kind. 
IT will look down from yonder pitying sky, 
Watching and waiting those I loved on earth, 
Anxious, in heaven, until they too are there. 
I will attend your guardian angel’s side, 
And weep away your faults with holy tears . 
Your midnight shall be filled with solemn thought, 
And when, at length, death brings you to my love, 
Mine the first welcome heard in paradise. 
L. E. Lanpon. 
TIME tempers love, but not removes, 
More hallowed when its hope is fled’; 
O, what are thousand living loves, 
To that which cannot quit the dead. 
Byron. 



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