
THE POETRY OF FLOWERS, 43 | 
| Not thus with thee in that dim day, i| 
| When, like the breath of flowers, 
| Thy spirit leaves its vase of clay, 
| For love in those lone hours, 
| Shall treasure up thy gentle worth, | 
| 
| 
And warm remembrance call it forth, 
And in a brighter, purer sphere, 
| Beyond the sunless tomb— 
The virtues, that have charmed us here, | 
| In fadeless life shall bloom ; 
And win from faith the fervid prayer, i 
To meet thy sainted spirit there. 
——— 
| TO THE ROSE. 
BY C. P. CRANCH. 
Deaz flower of heaven and love! Thou glorious 
thing I} 
That lookest out the garden nooks among: 
Rose, that art ever fair and ever young ; 
Was it some angel or invisible wing 
Hovered around thy fragrant sleep, to fling | 
His glowing mantl2 of warm sunset hues 
| O’er thy unfolding petals, wet with dews | 
|| Such as the flower-fays to Titania bring ? 
| O flower of thousand memories and dreams, | 
That take the heart with faintness, while we gaze | 
| 
| 
| 
| 
J 



