
THE BOUQUET. 13 
Love ’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and 
cheeks 
Within his bending sickle’s compass come ; 
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 
But bears it out e’en to the edge of doom. 
SHAKSPEARE. 
TuoucH changed from all that now thou art, 
In shame, in sorrow, still thy heart 
Would be the world to me, love. 
L. E. Lanpon. 
UNCHANGEABLE and generous; what, like love, 
Can melt away the dross of worldliness? 
Can elevate, refine, and make the heart 
Of that pure gold, which is the fitting shrine 
For fire, as sacred as e’er came from heaven? 
L. E. Lanpon. 
BACHELOR'S BUTTON. 
LYCHNIS DIOICA. 
I with the morning’s love have oft made sport. 
Ever till now, 
When men were fond, I smiled and wondered 
how. SHAKSPEARE. 


