








234 

POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Last hours with parting dear ones 
(That time the fastest spends) ; 
Last tears in silence shed ; 
Last words half uttered ; 
Last looks of dying friends. 
Who but would fain compress 
A life into a day,— 
The last day spent with one 
Who, ere to-morrow’s sun, 
Must leave us, and for aye? 
O precious, precious moments, 
Pale flowers! ye’re types of those 
The saddest, sweetest, dearest, © 
Because, like those, the nearest 
To an eternal close. 
Pale flowers! pale, perishing flowers! 
I woo your gentle breath ; 
TI leave the summer rose 
For younger, blither brows ; 
Tell me of change and death! 
