


| 130 HE POETRY OF FLOWERS, 
Our love—-how did it spring ? In sooth it grew 
Even as some rare exotic in a clime 
Unfriendly to its growth: yet rich in hue, 
Voluptuous in fragrance, as if Time 
Had peen to it all sunlight and soft dew,— 
| As if upon its freshness the cold rime 
Of death should never fall! How came it then 
i| Even as the manna fell ’midst famish’d men. 
T’o be snatch’d up in transport! And we fed 
Upon affection’s banquet, that ne’er pall’d 
Upon the spirit’s palate! Friends oe shed 
A light around our bosoms which recall’d 
The memory of that bard, w hose soul was wed- 
With love surpassing woman’s love, ungall’d 
By selfish doubts—to him, the monarch’s son, 
fl Brave Jonathan! Like their’s, our souls were on 

| Oh! long we loved in silence! Neither spake 
| Of that which work’d the thoughtful mine 
| within ;— 
Thou didst at guess that, sleeping or awake, 
My thoughts were full of thee t ‘tlt thought grew 
i| sin: 
| For it is sin of earthly things to make 
| Our idols! and I never hoped to win 
| Thy coveted affection ; but for me, 
Thy heart was als) yeanuing silently ! 



