



$a ae Se: 
i} 
vi 

250 POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
How often soar’d my soul aloft 
In balmy bliss too deep to speak, 
When zephyr came, and kissed with soft, 
Sweet incense-breath my blushing cheek ! 
When beauteous bees and butterflies 
Flew round me in the summer beam, 
Or when some virgin’s glorious eyes 
Bent o’er me, like a dazzling dream. 
Ah, yes, I know myself a birth 
Of that All-wise, All-mighty Love, 
Which made the flower to bloom on earth, 
And sun and stars to burn above ; 
And if, like them, I fade and fall, 
If I but share the common doom, 
Let no lament of wine bewail 
My dark descent to Hades’ gloom. 
Farewell, thou lamp of this green globe! 
Thy light is on my dying face ; 
Thy glory tints my faded robe, 
And clasps me in a death-embrace ! 
Farewell, thou balsam-dropping spring! 
Farewell, ye skies, that beam and weep! 
Unhoping and unmurmuring, 
I bow my head, and sink to sleep! 

