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Above the floating bridal veil The white Camella rears Its innocent and tranquil eye, To calm young beauty's fears, And when her hoary age recalls The memories of that hour, Blent with the heaven-recorded vow Will gleam that stainless flower.

The matron fills her chrystal vase With gems that Summer lends, Or groups them round the festal board To greet her welcome friends, Her husband's eye is on the skill With which she decks his bower, And dearer is his praise to her Than earth's most precious flower.

Frail gifts we call them, prone to fade Ere the brief spring is o'er, Though down the smitten strong man falls, Returning never more. Time wears away the arch of rock, And rends the ancient throne, Yet back they come, unchang'd, as when On Eden's breast they shone.