











y 
THE POETRY OF FL: WERS., 
But woodbines flaunt when blue bells fade, 
Where Don reflects the skies ; i 
And many a youth in Shirecliffs’ shade i) 
Will ramble where my boyhood play’d; 
Though Alfred dies. 
Then panting woods the breeze will feel 
And bowers, as heretofore, 
Beneath their load of roses reel] : 
But I through woodbine lanes shall steal 
No more, no mors. 


Well, lay me by my brother’s side, 
Where late we stood and wept; 
For I was stricken when he disd. 
{ felt the arrow as he sigh’d 
His last, aid seer. 

