

THE BOUQUET. 39 

Wind of the summer night! 
Where yonder woodbine creeps, 
Fold, fold thy pinions light, 
She sleeps! 
My lady sleeps! 
Sleeps! 
Dreams of the summer night! 
Tell her, her lover keeps 
Watch! while in slumbers light 
She sleeps! 
My lady sleeps! 
Sleeps: LONGFELLOW. 
HGLANTINE. 
ROSA RUBIGINOSA. 
I wound to heal. 
Wuen the tree of love is budding first, 
Ere yet its leaves are green, 
Ere yet by shower and sunbeam nursed, 
Tts infant life hath been 5 
The wild bee’s slightest touch might wring 
The buds from off the tree, 
As the gentle dip of the swallow’s wing 
Breaks the bubbles on the sea: 








