
















a8 
Spnng' 
uct, 
ty 
ine, 
ding rom 
ns, 
TLE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
But beauty how frail and how fleeting, 
The bloom of a fine summer’s day! 
While worth in the mind o’ my Phillis 
Will flourish without a decay. 
—__-4-——— 
THE ORANGE-BOUGH. 
BY MRS. HEMANS. 
Ox! bring me one sweet Orange-bough, 
To fan my cheek, to cool my brow; 
One bough, with pearly blossoms drest, 
And bind it, Mother! on my breast ! 
Go seek the grove along the shore, 
Whose cdours I must breathe no more, 
The grove where every scented tree 
Thrills to the deep voice of the sea. 
Oh! Love’s fond sighs, and fervent prayer 
And wild farewell, are lingering there, 
Each leaf’s light whisper hath a tone, 
My faint heart, even in death, would own. 
‘Then bear me thence one bough, to shed 
Life’s parting sweetness round my head, 
And bind it, Mother! on my breast 
When I am laid in lonely rest. 
189 






