

THE BOUQUET. 

ROSE — BRIDAL. | 
RuBUS ROSAFOLIUS. 
Happy Love. 
Our love hath been no common love, 
With hopeful smiles and tears ; 
Our faith is faith to meet above, 
Our trust the trust of years. 
Thus have we struggled for the good, 
Thus kept our spirits pure ; 
Believing, in our darkest mood, 
That love must still endure. 
I know not, love, where heaven may be, 
With us ’tis now begun ; 
I learn celestial good from thee, 
On earth our souls are one; 
And being one in this dim way, 
Where faith so oft hath striven, 
When love no more shall Weep and pray, 
‘We must be one in heaven. 
E. HELFENSTEIN. 
My soul hath her content so absolute, 
That not another comfort like to this, 
Succeeds in unknown fate. 

SHAKSPEARE. 


























