Page:Voice of Flowers.pdf/91

Rh

I've set the flow'rets where ye sleep, Father and mother dear; Their roots are in the mould so deep, Their bosoms hide a tear; The chrystal of the dewy morn Their trembling casket fills, Mixed with that tear-drop from the heart, Which filial love distils.

Above thy pillow, mother dear, I've placed thy favorite flower— The bright-eyed purple violet, That deck'd thy summer bower; The fragrant chamomile, that spreads Its leaflets fresh and green, And richly broiders every niche The velvet turf between.