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And the touch of the sunbeam hath waked the 
rose, 
To deck the hall where the bright wine flows. 
Bring flowers, to strew in the conqueror’s path ! 
He hath shaken thrones with his stormy wrath ! 
He comes with the spoil of nations back, 
The vines lie crush’d in his chariot track, 
The turf looks red where he won the day ; 
Bring flowers, to die in the conqueror’s way ! 
Bring flowers, to the captive’s lonely cell, 
They have tales of the joyous woods to tell ; 
Of the free blue streams, and the glowing sky, 
And the bright world shut from his languid eye ; 
They will bear him a thought of the sunny hours, 
And a dream of his youth,—bring him flowers, 
wild flowers. 
Bring flowers, fresh flowers for the bride to wear! 
They were born to blush in her shining hair, 
She is leaving the home of her childhood’s mirth, 
She hath bid farewell to her father’s hearth ; 
Her place is now by another's side,— 
Bring flowers for the locks of the fairyoung bride. 
Bring flowers, pale flowers, on the bier to shed 
A crown for the brow of the early dead ; 

