
18 THE BOUQUET. 

BOX. 
Buxvs SUFFRUTICOSA. 
Stoicism. 
I Love thee, yet I do not weep 
That thou art mine no more ; 
I mourn thee, yet my feelings sleep 
In silence as before. 
A common loss might tears bewail, 


But not a loss like thine 5 
And words might soothe Love’s fancied tale, 
But not a love like mine. 
M. J. Jewspury. 
THE star of the uneonquered will, 
Tt rises in my breast, 
Serene and resolute, and still, 

And calm, aud self-possessed. 
TI fear not in a world like this, 

And thou shalt know ere long, 

Know how sublime a thing it is 

To suffer and be strong. 
LONGFELLOw. 




