
But when its open leaves have found 
A home in the free air, 
Pluck them, and there remains a wound, 
That ever rankles there, 
The blight of hope and happiness 
Is felt when fond ones part; 
And the bitter tears that follow, is 
The life-blood of the heart. 
Then crush, e’en in the hour of birth, 
The infant buds of love; 
And tread his growing fire to earth, 
Ere ’tis dark in clouds above. 
Cherish no more a cypress-tree, 

} 
To shade thy future years, _ 
Nor nurse a heart-flame, that may be 
Quenched only with thy tears. 
HALLECK. 
EVERLASTING. 
GNAPHALIUM. 
Always remembered. 

THY memory, asa spell 
Of love comes o’er my mind — 
As dew upon the purple bell — 
As perfume on the wind — 

THE BOUQUET. 
eee 






