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The morning flowers display their sweets,

And gay their silken leaves unfold, As careless of the noontide heats,

As fearless of the evening cold.

Nipt by the wind's untimely blast,

Parch'd by the sun's directer ray, The momentary glories waste,

The short-liv'd beauties die away.

So blooms the human face divine,

When youth its pride of beauty shows; Fairer than spring the colours shine,

And sweeter than the virgin rose.

But worn by slowly rollirz years,

Or broke by sickness in a day, The fading glory disappears,

The short-lived beauties die away.

Yet these new-rising from the tomb,

With lustre brighter far shall shine, Revive with ever-during bloom,

Safe from diseases and decline.

Let sickness blast, let death devour,

If heaven but recompense our pains ; Perish the grass and fade the flower,

If firm the word of God remains !

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Bring me flowers all young and sweet,
That I may strew the winding sheet,
Where calm thou sleepest, baby fair,
With roseless cheek and auburn hair!

Bring me the rosemary, whose breath
Perfumed the wild and desert heath;
The lily of the vale, which, too,
In silence and in beauty grew.

Bring cypress from some sunless spot,
Bring me the blue forget-me-not;
That I may strew them o'er thy bier,
With long-drawn sigh and gushing tear.

Oh, what upon this earth doth prove
So steadfast as a mother's love!
Oh, what on earth can bring relief,
Or solace to a mother's grief!

No more, my baby, shalt thou lie,
With drowsy smile and half-shut eye,
Pillowed upon my fostering breast
Serenely sinking into rest !

The grave must be thy cradle, now;
The wild-flowers o'er thy breast shall grow,
While still my heart, all full of thee,
In widowed solitude shall be.

No taint of earth, no thought of sin,
E'er dwelt thy stainless breast within,
And God hath laid thee down to sleep,
Like a pure pearl below the deep.

Yea! from mine arms thy soul hath flown
Above, and found the heavenly throne,
To join that blest angelic ring,
That aye around the altar sing.

Methought when years had rolled away,
That thou wouldst be my age's stay;
And often have I dreamt to see
The boy—the youth-the man in thee!

But thou hast past! for ever gone,
To leave me childless and alone,
Like Rachel pouring tear on tear,
And looking not for comfort here !

Farewell, my child, the dews shall fall,
At noon and evening, o'er thy pall :
And daisies, when the vernal year
Revives, upon thy turf appear.

The earliest snow-drop there shall spring,
And lark delight to fold his wing ;
And roses pale, and lilies fair,
With perfume load the summer air!

Adieu, my babe! if life were long,
This would be even a heavier song;
But years, like phantoms, quickly pass,
They look to us from memory's glass.

Soon on death's couch shall I recline ;
Soon shall my head be laid with thine ;
And sundered spirits meet above,
To live for evermore in love.


The twining jasmine and the blushing rose,
With lavish grace their morning scents disclose ;
The smelling tuberose and jonquil declare
The stronger impulse of an ev’ning air.



I SEND the Lilies given to me;

Though long before thy hand they touch, I know that they must withered be;

But yet reject them not as such : For I have cherished them as dear,

Because they yet may meet thine eye, And guide thy soul to mine, even here,

When thou behold'st them drooping nigh, And know'st them gathered by the Rhine, And offered from my heart to thine !

The river nobly foams and flows,

The charm of this enchanted ground, And all its thousand turns disclose,

Some fresher beauty varying round ; The haughtiest breast its wish might bound,

Through life to dwell delighted here;
Nor could on earth a spot be found,

To Nature and to me so dear,
Could thy dear eyes, in following mine,
Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine !


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