The adopted daughter :: :: University of Virginia Library

Sweet Flora lays her crown aside,
Her short, bright reign is o'er
Her fragrant breath and balmy sighs
Refresh the air no more.
No more she whispers to the birds
Such joyous tales of love,
As made them pour their little souls
In music through the grove.
The sweet flowers languish for her kiss,
And bow their drooping heads;
The breeze that fans them only shakes
Pale leaflets o'er their beds.
No roses deck the green hill-side,
Or violets grace the lea,
Where late the glittering streamlet laugh'd,
And humm'd the fairy bee.
The bright, pure joys that summer brings,
Have run their transient race;
The shadowy Past, with outstretch'd arms,
Clasps them in her embrace.
Perchance we never more shall see
Earth smile through summer's bloom;
The next flower-offering that she brings,
May wave above our tomb.

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For life and all our earthly hopes
Are fleeting, and decay;
Like tender flowers they bloom a while,
Like them they fade away.
But, ah! there is a better land,
Whose summer shall endure;
Whose flowers shall never droop and die
Where love is strong and pure.
A land whose crystal waters gush
O'er ever-verdant plains;
Where Sin and Sorrow enter not,
And Peace forever reigns.
There holy, shining seraphs sing
Around the mercy-seat,
And cherubs lay their crowns, with tears
Of joy, at Jesus' feet.
There we shall see our Father's face,
And grateful homage bring
To Him who died and rose again—
Our Saviour and our King.
Our treasure and our heart are there
There is our safe abode;
Our Home is in that better land—
The Paradise of God.