Page:The Romance of Nature; or, The Flower-Seasons Illustrated.djvu/188

106 ON A FRIEND'S BIRTHDAY.

" Flowers, young Flowers," a wreath I'l twine,

A crown for that mind-written brow of thine—

A radiant wreath—not one drooping spray

Shall dim, with ill omen, thy natal day;

Not a lurking dew-drop shall dare appear,

For, though bright and lustrous, 'tis like a tear:

And smiles must dimple each cheek to-day,

Tears, sorrow, and care shall flee far away!

But, alas, for my wreath! The transient Flowers

Have passed away with the Summer hours:

They are all, all flown, the wild and the sweet,

Their slight forms may never the cold winds meet:

All flown and faded—or one loved gem

I had sought and wreathed for thy diadem.

Not the rose—that has thorns—and I would not bring

In my simple garland so false a thing;

Did I the leaves of thy destiny twine,

No thorn should approach e'en a thought of thine.

Of the Flower I'd bring, I have often told

How brightly its petals of blue unfold,

And oft I've repeated its name, to tell

What no other words breathe half so well.