204 POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Sweet summer ! to the captive 
Thou hast flown in burning dreams 
Of the woods with all their whispering leaves, 
And the blue rejoicing streams ; 
To the wasted and the weary, 
On tne bed of sickness bound, 
In swift delirious fantasies, 
That changed with every sound ; 
To the sailor on the billows, 
In longings wild and vain, 
For the gushing founts and breezy hills, 
And the homes of earth again! 
And unto me, glad summer! 
How hast thou flown to me? 
My chainless footsteps nought hath kept 
From thy haunts of song and glee. 


Thou hast flown in wayward visions, 
In memories of the dead— 
In shadows from a troubled heart, 
O’er thy sunny pathway shed ; 

In brief and sudden strivings 
To fling a weight aside— 
Midst these thy melodies have ceased, 
And all thy roses died. 


