Page:Literary Souvenir 1825.pdf/3

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THE

DECISION OF THE FLOWER.

. . . . . ’Tis a history Handed from ages down; a nurse's tale. Southey's Thalaba.

T is a flower, a purple flower Sown by the wind, nursed by the shower, O'er which Love has breathed a power and spell The truth of whispering hope to tell. Lightly the maiden's cheek has prest The pillow of her dreaming rest, Yet a crimson blush is over it spread As her lover's lip had lighted its red. Yes, sleep before her eyes has brought The image of her waking thought,— That one thought hidden from all the world, Like the last sweet hue in the rose-bud curled. The dew is yet on the grass and leaves, The silver veil which the morning weaves. To throw o'er the roses, those brides which the sun Must woo and win ere the day be done.