Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1824.pdf/3

FRAGMENTS. First Series. 2 Literary Gazette, 3rd January, 1824, Page 10

LOVE'S WREATH. It is an April wreath: blue violets, Sapphires from a moss mine; pale primroses, Wearing a yellow and forsaken dress, And yet too beautiful to be forsaken; And daisies, simple daisies,—surely love May trace its likeness in the gentle flower That blossoms every where and any how, Bearing alike with storm and shine, with still The same fair summer face,—seen on the grave, The heath, the field, the garden; cowslips, too, Tall and green turrets for the fragrant bells Which the bees love so,—bound with the young leaves Of the sweet briar, sparkling with the rain, Which has called forth an odour like the scent Floating around the coast of Araby, Till the rich sails are heavy with perfume. I have read somewhere, in far Indian lands, That maidens write a whole fond history In braids of leaves and buds, love's best love-letters. And read you thus my history in my wreath: Just as these flowers have in the sunlight sprung To a most sweet existence, so your love Has called my feelings into sunny life; And as the wreath will fall away and fade, When gathered from the green and natural stem, So my heart, severed from its home, your love Would pine and wither.