








THE BOUQUET. 
GRAPE. 
VITIS VINIFERA. 
Mirth. 
I wEARD the gushing of thy voice, 
Thy laugh of happy mirth — 
A bright fount in a pleasant place, 
To cheer the shaded earth. 
I caught the glancing of thine eye, 
Its gleam of young delight — 
A sunbeam on.a dewy bank, 
Each floweret’s eye to light. | 
And all the poet’s spell can give, 
Is in this simple prayer, 
That no chill wind of sorrow come 
To ice the fountain there ; 
That no dark cloud of grief may rise, 
The pleasant glance to shade ; 
But that pure stream of joy gush on, 
That sun-gleam never fade. 
MILLER. 
