
ouch, 
nig'y 
ne, 

The haughtiest breast its wish might bound, 
Through life to dwell delighted here ; 
Nor could on eartn a spot be found 
‘lo nature and to me so dear. 
Could thy dear eyes, in following mine, 
Stull sweeten more these banks of Rhine! 
—— 
FADED FLOWERS. 
BY MRS. SARAH HELEN WHITMAN. 
REMEMBRANCERS of happiness! to me 
Ye bring sweet thoughts of the year’s purple 
prime, 
Wild, mingling melodies of bird and bee 
That pour on summer winds their silvery chime; 
And of rich incense, burdening all the air, 
From flowers that by the sunny garden wall 
3loom’d at your side,—nursed into beauty there 
By dews and silent showers ; but these to all 
Ye bring. Oh! sweeter far than these the spell 
Shrined in those fairy urns for me alone, 
For me a charm sleeps in each honey’d cell 
Whose power can call back hours of rapture 
flown, 
lo the sad heart sweet memories restore, 
Tones, looks, and words of love that may re 
turn no more. 
THE POETRY OF FLOWERS, 149 







