 | Love's token-flowers |  |
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PURPLE HYACINTH.—Hyacinthus Orientalis.
Grief.
No more, no more my heart with gladness boundeth,
No more my lip is wreathed with ready smiles,
When thus the measured tread of time resoundeth,
Like solemn music through night's cloistered aisles.
No more my lip is wreathed with ready smiles,
When thus the measured tread of time resoundeth,
Like solemn music through night's cloistered aisles.
No more the echoes of the day departed
Seem like the footsteps of some gentle friend
Who leaves me now, but true and kindly-hearted
To-morrow comes, new happiness to lend.
Seem like the footsteps of some gentle friend
Who leaves me now, but true and kindly-hearted
To-morrow comes, new happiness to lend.
I yield not now to fancy's fair dissembling,
Gone is the sweet credulity of youth;
For life to all presents a cup of trembling,
And they who quaff learn many a solemn truth.
Gone is the sweet credulity of youth;
82
And they who quaff learn many a solemn truth.
Upon my spirit rests a cloud of sadness,
My hopes no more go forth like birds in spring,
Chanting a matin song of quiet gladness,
And shedding sunshine from each radiant wing.
My hopes no more go forth like birds in spring,
Chanting a matin song of quiet gladness,
And shedding sunshine from each radiant wing.
| Love's token-flowers | |