

HONEYSUCKLE. 
Long years rolled on,—and I saw again 
His form in hoary age ; 
His forehead was deeply furrowed then, 
In life’s last feeble stage. 





O be thy crown, old man, I said, 
Of the yew and the cypress made, 
A garland meet for thy silvered head 
Ere it low in the tomb be laid. 




And such is life, and such is man 
In his fleeting course below : 
His little day, that in joy began, 
Must proceed and end in woe; 



But another day shall weave for him 
A garland that will not die, 
And his cup of bliss shall o’erflow its brim i— 
He shall live eternally. 






HONEYSUCKLES. 




KEATS, 


DEW-SWEET eglantine, 
And honeysuckles full of clear bee-wine. 


