SONGS AND CHORUS OF THE FLOWERS. 
Pale Flowers !—pale, perishing Flowers! 
7 ary ava] a j , 
Ye’re types of precious things, 
Types of those bitter moments 
That flit, like life’s enjoyments, 
On rapid, rapid wings. 
Last hours with parting dear ones 
(That time the fastest spends), 
Last tears in silence shed, 
Last words, half uttered, 
Last looks of dying friends ! 
Songs und Chorus of the Flowers, 
Leigh Hunt. 
ROSES, 
W* are blushing Roses, 
Bending with our fulness, 
"Midst our close-capped sister buds 
Warming the green coolness. 
Whatsoe’er of beauty 
Yearns and yet reposes, — 
Blush, and bosom, and sweet breath 
Took a shape in roses. 
Hold one of us lightly, 
See from what a slender 
Stalk we bow’d in heavy blooms, 
And roundness rich and tender. 

















