writer of the lines was so speedily followed by her own decease, the
striking appropriateness of these touching verses could not fail to be
remembered.

TO A CACTUS FLOWER.


Firstling blossom! gayly spreading
On a long-nursed household tree,
What unwonted spell is shedding
Thought of grief on bloom of thee?

For a morning bright and tender
They had nursed thee glad and fond;
Nay, the bud reserved its splendor
For a funeral scene beyond.

Who shall tell us which were meeter,--
Marriage morn, or funeral day?
What if nature chose the sweeter,
Where her blooming gift to lay?

Set in thorns that flower so tender!
Marriage days have poignant hours;
Thorny stem, thou hast thy splendor!
Funeral days have also flowers.

And the loftiest hopes man nurses,
Never deem them idly born;
Never think that deathly curses