Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1827.pdf/5

 2

not wreathe thy sunny hair With summer flowers; Their breath and bloom will not outlast A few short hours.

I am too anxious in my love To bear to see Those sweet but fragile flower leaves Wasting by thee.

They are so fresh, in loveliness So much like thine, That evil omen does it seem To watch them pine.

Thus I should think, like these will fade Thy lip of rose— Like those blue violets, thine eyes Grow dim and close.

I know the time will come, our star Of joy must set; But that such grief must be I would At least forget.

Then let not, mid thy golden curls, Those blossoms sigh; I cannot bear that even a flower Near thee should die.

For all too precious and too dear Thou art to me, For me to brook aught that recalls I might lose Thee.