
8 
The cypress that darkly shades the grave, 
Is sorrow that mourns its bitter lot ; 
And faith that a thousand ills can brave, 
Speaks in thy blue leaves, forget-me-not. 
Then gather a wreath from the garden bowers, 
And tell the wish of thy heart in flowers. 
PERcIVAL. 
Flowers to the fair! to you these flowers I 
bring, 
And strive to greet you with an earlier spring; 
Flowers sweet and gay, and delicate like you, 
Emblems of Innocence and Beauty too. 
With flowers the graces bind their yellow 
hair, | 
And flowery wreaths consenting lovers wear. 
Flowers, the sole luxury which nature knew, 
In Eden’s pure and guiltless garden grew. 
Mrs. Barzpautp. 
