Sweetbriar.

How fragrant is the summer dusk1
                        
                        With breath of mignonette and musk,2
                        
                        How dear this hour of rest,3
                        
                        When waning twilight fills with gloom4
                        
                        The shadowy corners of the room5
                        
                        Outlooking to the west.6
                        The blue-eyed prattlers who have played7
                        
                        All day in sunshine and in shade8
                        
                        Among the garden bowers,9
                        
                        Have said good- night—I look around10
                        
                        For scattered toys, and on the ground11
                        
                        I see their faded flowers.12
                        Poor blossoms, plucked with childish haste,13
                        
                        Your summer sweetness ran to waste14
                        
                        In heat of childish play ;15
                        
                        A half-blown rose of crimson hue,16
                        
                        Forget-me-nots of heavenly blue,17
                        
                        A tuft of rosy may :18
                        A branch of sweetbriar—— Ah, my heart !19
                        
                        The tender tears unbidden start20
                        
                        To weary, world-worn eyes ;21
                        
                        I kiss the faded, fragrant spray,22
                        
                        And memories of a bygone day23
                        
                        Before my vision rise.24
                        How often my lost darling wore25
                        
                        The sweetbriar green !  She loved it more26
                        
                        Than many-tinted bloom ;27
                        
                        It often graced her maiden breast,28
                        
                        Now, planted where she lies at rest,29
                        
                        It beautifies her tomb.30
                        My little love in days of old !31
                        
                        Youth’s morning-hour of rose and gold32
                        
                        Comes back to me to-night ;33
                        
                        I see her in her girlish grace,34
                        
                        The sunny sweetness of her face,35
                        
                        Her childish robe of white.36
                        I smell the sweetbriar in her hand,37
                        
                        I see the garden where we stand38
                        
                        On England’s southern shore,39
                        
                        I hear the rippling streamlet fall,40
                        
                        I hear her laughter musical,41
                        
                        Now silenced evermore.42
                        She was too frail for earth’s employ,43
                        
                        Too calm and pure for human joy,44
                        
                        But like the sweetbriar green, 45
                        
                        The memory of her gentle life46
                        
                        Makes sweet the years of worldly strife47
                        
                        That lie our lives between.48
                        Thy life and mine, my little love,49
                        
                        My life below, thy life above,50
                        
                        God’s love shall re-unite :51
                        
                        I kiss the children’s faded spray.52
                        
                        My sweetbriar graceth, far away,53
                        
                        The land of pure delight !54