ON RECEIPT OF SOME WILD FLOWERS.


I bedewed with tears those spring-time flowers,
For they brought to my mind the happy hours
When I roamed through the forests' and meadows green
With a heart all alive to each beautiful scene.

I loved the flowers when my step was light,
And my cheek with the glow of health was bright,
Through forest and meadows, o'er plain and o'er hill
I may wander no more--but I love them still!

I love the flowers, and I love them best
When they first peep out from earth's snow-wreathed breast;
For they tell, amid sorrow, and death, and gloom,
Of a spring that shall visit the depths of the tomb!

And oh! could I roam through Fortune's bowers,
I would twine a wreath of the sweetest flowers,
Whose beauty and fragrance should ne'er depart--
But brighten thy home and gladden thy heart!

But the flowers of earth are fragile and fair,--
And the young brow must fade and be furrowed with care;
But hast thou not heard of a wonderful clime
That ne'er has been marred by the footsteps of Time?

There in gardens of bliss the weary repose;