















/ 
THE BOUQUET. 
PERIWINKLE — BLUE. 
VINCA MINOR. 
Sweet Remembrances. 
Let fate do her worst; there are relics of joy, 
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot de- 
stroy ; 
And which come in the night-time of sorrow and 
care, 
To bring back the features that joy used to wear. 
Long, long be my heart with such memories filled, 
Like the vase in which roses have once been dis- 
tilled ; 
You may break, you may ruin the vase, if you will, 
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still. 
Moore. 
Awp thus, as in Memory’s bark we shall glide 
To visit the scenes of our boyhood anew, 
Though oft we may see, looking down on the tide, 
The wreck of full many a hope shining through ; 
Yet still, as in fancy we point to the flowers, 
That once made a garden of all the gay shore, 
Deceived for a moment, well think thenr still 
ours, 
And breathe the fresh air of life’s morning once 
more. Moorz. 


