Page:The Romance of Nature; or, The Flower-Seasons Illustrated.djvu/336

210 I told her all my love, and sure

Joy made me eloquent,

For though her blush was deep, her brow

No frown upon me bent.

Little she spoke, but her small hand

Was not withdrawn from mine,

And the bright tear which I might see

Under the eyelash shine

Told not of sorrow, but deep joy;

And soon a smile o'erspread

Her blushing face, that chased away

The tear-drop ere 'twas shed.

Together joined we that gay throng

That happy birth-day eve;

Our loneliness had passed away,

As ye may well believe.

Such was the story told by one

Who well might love to gaze

Upon the lowly bud that bore

Such dreams of earlier days.

But ever does that humble flower

That gems the aging year,