
THE POETRY OF FLOWERS, 239 
And when the rude hands the twin buds sever 
They die, and they shall blossom never; 
Yet the thorns be sharp as ever ; 
Just like Love 
SS 
“GO TO THE FOREST SHADE.” 
BY MRS. HEMANS. 
Go to the forest shade- 
Seek thou the well known glade, 
Where, heavy with sweet dew, the violets lie, 
Gleaming through moss-tufts deep, 
Like dark eyes fill’d with sleep, 
And bathed in hues of summer’s midnight sky. 
Bring me their buds, to shed 
Around my dying bed 
A breath of May, and of the wood’s repose ; 
For I in sooth depart 
With a reluctant heart, 
That fain would linger where the bright sun glows, 
Fain would I stay with thee— 
Alas! this may not be, 
sring me still the gifts of happier hours! 
Go where the fountain’s breast 
s, In glassy rest, 
I'he dim green light that pours through laurel 
howers. 

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