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POETRY OF FLOWERS, 
Yet, though it has faded, 
It yields its perfume, 
As strong, I’m persuaded, 
As when ’twas in bloom, 
Now dearly I prize it, | 
Thy love to repay ; Hh 
I will not despise it, 
Though beauty decay, 
And thus shall my love be, 
When age stamps thy brow g 
For then I will love thee 
As dearly as now. 
When age overtakes thee, 
Which may be thy lot, 
If beauty forsake thee, 
Thy virtue will not. 

FADING FLOWERS. 


Tae leaves are falling from the trees 3 
The flowers are fading all; 
More chill and boisterous is the breeze, 
More hoarse the waterfall ; 
The sky, o’ermanitled now with clouds, 
Looks grey, and waned, and pale; 
The mist-fog spreads its hoary shrouds 
O’er mountain, grove, and vale, 



