“ These flowers I gathered by the highway side,1
Where good and evil fate has cast my days ;2
I dare not give them loosely tied,3
I’ll twine them in a wreath—to win more praise.4
“ Still fresh, the Rose is weeping tear on tear ;5
The Pansy lifts her eye of purple hue ;6
Then the calm Lilies, dreamers of the mere,7
And budding Corn ;— and there my life lies too.8
“ And thine too, Reader,—is’t not even so ?9
One fate is always ours in joy or woe,—10
To weep Love’s tears, and think, but never know,11
“ How we have lost in dreaming Spring’s best day.12
Then comes the hour when we would rise from play,13
And plant some seed before we pass away.”14