











THE BOUQUET. 
SAGH, 
SALVIA OFFICINALIS. 
Domestic Virtues. 
Howe’er the skeptic scoffs, the poet sighs, 
Hope oft reveals her dimly-shadowed dreams; 
And seraph Joy descends from pale-blue skies, 
And, like sweet sunset on wood-skirted streams, 
Peace breathes around her stilling harmonies, 
Her whispered music— while her soft eye 
beams ; 
And the deep bliss that crowns the household 
hearth, 
From all its woes redeems the bleeding earth. 
Hail, ye fair charities! the mellow showers 
Of the heart’s spring-lime! from your rosy 
breath, 
The wayworn pilgrim, though the tempest lowers, 
Breathes a new being in the realms of Death, 
And bears the burden of life’s darker hours, 
With cheerless aspect o’er the lonely heath, 
That spreads between us and the unfading clime 
Where true Love triumphs o’er the death of 
Time. S. L. FarrFienp. 

