

FLORA’S ALBUM. 

Weeping Willow. 
MELANCHOLY 
Stay, melancholy muser, stay, 
And tell me all thy sorrow ; 
The rose that droops in tears to-day, 
May rise in smiles to-morrow: 
Ah! yes, when only wet with dew 
Of nature’s balmy breathing, 
Tts glories may awake anew, 
While beams are round it wreathing. 
But that o’er which the chilling blast 
Has wildly, darkly driven, 
And rudely scattered as it past, 
The charm it caught from heaven ; 
Too sadly feels the coming day, 
That others joy in viewing, 
Will only bring a brighter ray 
To smile upon its ruin. 
With eyes upraised, as one inspired, 
Pale Melancholy sat retired ; 
And from her mild, sequestered seat, 
In notes, by distance made more sweet, 
Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul. 
COLLINS. | 



































