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 | Love's token-flowers |  |
15
MEADOW SAFFRON—Colchicsum Autumnalis.
“My best days are past.”
My locks still wear their sunny brown,
My cheek, unfurrowed, glows with health,
And though life's sands are running down,
The miser mind still guards its wealth.
My cheek, unfurrowed, glows with health,
And though life's sands are running down,
The miser mind still guards its wealth.
Mine eye is bright, though steeped in tears,
My limbs with vigor still are strung,
And measuring life by strength, not years,
I feel my heart, my heart is young!
My limbs with vigor still are strung,
And measuring life by strength, not years,
I feel my heart, my heart is young!
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SPIDER-WORT.—Tradescantia.
“I esteem, but do not love you.”
Nay, leave me now, and let us part
With friendship's smiles at last;
Thou canst not win this worthless heart;
Its dreams of joy are past,
And never can I bend the knee
As Love's impassioned votary.
With friendship's smiles at last;
Thou canst not win this worthless heart;
Its dreams of joy are past,
And never can I bend the knee
As Love's impassioned votary.
For I have loved, and still my brow
A trace of suffering wears;
My weary eyes are even now
Clouded with unshed tears:
Oh, why should aught so gentle be
The harbinger of misery?
A trace of suffering wears;
My weary eyes are even now
Clouded with unshed tears:
Oh, why should aught so gentle be
The harbinger of misery?
Alas! to look in eyes that hold
Our all of earthly light,
And pray to meet a glance less cold—
A smile less calmly bright,
Yet ever meet their chilling beam,
Like moonlight o'er a frozen stream:
Our all of earthly light,
And pray to meet a glance less cold—
A smile less calmly bright,
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Like moonlight o'er a frozen stream:
To hang upon the words that fall
From lips we love, in vain
Some hidden meaning to recall,
Some shadowy hope to gain,
To treasure every sigh and smile,
Yet find fresh food for grief the while:
From lips we love, in vain
Some hidden meaning to recall,
Some shadowy hope to gain,
To treasure every sigh and smile,
Yet find fresh food for grief the while:
Is not this misery? Yet this
Has worn my heart away;
Then tell not o'er thy hopes of bliss,
Mine bloomed but to decay,
Like wind-sown flowers in some deep cave
Their gloomy birthplace was their grave.
Has worn my heart away;
Then tell not o'er thy hopes of bliss,
Mine bloomed but to decay,
Like wind-sown flowers in some deep cave
Their gloomy birthplace was their grave.
Methinks my life has been so drear,
That e'en should fortune give
All that would be on earth most dear,
I scarce could wish to live;
My heart has been so worn with sighs,
It could not breathe hope's melodies.
That e'en should fortune give
All that would be on earth most dear,
I scarce could wish to live;
My heart has been so worn with sighs,
It could not breathe hope's melodies.
22
THE LILY OF THE NILE.—Calla Æthiopica.
Maiden Purity.
Be thine the emblem, sweet one—watch and pray,
Win thy young, stainless heart from earthly things;
Oh! wait not thou till life's bright morning ray
Only o'er blighted hopes its radiance flings,
But give to Heaven thy sinless spirit now,
Ere sorrow's tradery mar thy placid brow.
Win thy young, stainless heart from earthly things;
Oh! wait not thou till life's bright morning ray
Only o'er blighted hopes its radiance flings,
But give to Heaven thy sinless spirit now,
Ere sorrow's tradery mar thy placid brow.
Sinless and pure thou art, yet is thy soul
Filled with a maiden's vague and pleasant dreams,
Sweet fantasies that mock at truth's control,
Like atoms round thee float in fancy's beams;
But trust them not, young dreamer—bid them flee,
They have deceived all others, and will thee.
Filled with a maiden's vague and pleasant dreams,
Sweet fantasies that mock at truth's control,
Like atoms round thee float in fancy's beams;
But trust them not, young dreamer—bid them flee,
They have deceived all others, and will thee.
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Well can I read thy thoughts—thy gentle heart
(Already woman's in its wish to bless)
Now longs for one to whom it may impart
Its untold wealth of hidden tenderness,
And yearns to know the meaning of the thrill
That wakes when fancy stirs affection's rill.
(Already woman's in its wish to bless)
Now longs for one to whom it may impart
Its untold wealth of hidden tenderness,
And yearns to know the meaning of the thrill
That wakes when fancy stirs affection's rill.
Thou dreamest of love's happiness,—the deep
And placid joy which poets paint so well.
Alas! our passions, even when they sleep,
Like ocean waves, are heaved with secret swell,
And they who hear the frequent, low-breathed sigh,
Know 'tis the wailing of the storm gone by.
And placid joy which poets paint so well.
Alas! our passions, even when they sleep,
Like ocean waves, are heaved with secret swell,
And they who hear the frequent, low-breathed sigh,
Know 'tis the wailing of the storm gone by.
Vain, vain are all thy visions; couldst thou know
The secrets of a woman's weary lot,
Oh! couldst thou read upon her pride-veiled brow
Her wasted tenderness, her love forgot,
In humbleness of heart thou wouldst kneel down,
And pray for strength to wear her martyr crown.
The secrets of a woman's weary lot,
Oh! couldst thou read upon her pride-veiled brow
Her wasted tenderness, her love forgot,
In humbleness of heart thou wouldst kneel down,
And pray for strength to wear her martyr crown.
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PURPLE LILAC.—Syringa.
First emotions of love.
The time has been when my young heart
Was like an untried lute,
Full of earth's sweetest melodies,
Yet all untouched and mute,
Save when, perchance a passing breath,
Like zephyr's laden wings,
Might call a broken melody
Forth from its silent strings.
Was like an untried lute,
Full of earth's sweetest melodies,
Yet all untouched and mute,
Save when, perchance a passing breath,
Like zephyr's laden wings,
Might call a broken melody
Forth from its silent strings.
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Thine was the hand, beloved one,
To touch that silent heart,
And teach the tones of happy love
Which now it can impart;
Like Memnon's harp it could not wake
Beneath a lowlier light,
But poured its full and perfect tone
To greet the sunbeam bright.
To touch that silent heart,
And teach the tones of happy love
Which now it can impart;
Like Memnon's harp it could not wake
Beneath a lowlier light,
But poured its full and perfect tone
To greet the sunbeam bright.
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SWEET-SCENTED TUSSILAGE.—Tussilago Fragrans.
“You shall have Justice.”
Oh! do not call her false, nor say
That, like an eastern Khan, her heart
Admits new guests each coming day,
And careless sees the old depart.
That, like an eastern Khan, her heart
Admits new guests each coming day,
And careless sees the old depart.
'Tis rather like some idol-fane
Whose votive garlands all may twine,
And many kneel in homage vain,
While only one may deck the shrine.
Whose votive garlands all may twine,
And many kneel in homage vain,
While only one may deck the shrine.
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ORANGE FLOWERS.—Citrus Aurantium.
A bridal Wreath.
No voice but that of gladness
Should meet thine ear to-day,
Yet only in deep sadness
Can I love's tribute pay;
Unbidden tears are springing—
Their source thy heart can tell;
Of joy I would be singing—
I can but sigh—farewell.
Should meet thine ear to-day,
Yet only in deep sadness
Can I love's tribute pay;
Unbidden tears are springing—
Their source thy heart can tell;
Of joy I would be singing—
I can but sigh—farewell.
When from life's fairy garland
Has fallen a precious gem,
Can I smile to see it glisten
In another's diadem?
Could I hear thy deep vow spoken,
Without a thought of pain,
When I felt the best link broken
In friendship's golden chain?
Has fallen a precious gem,
Can I smile to see it glisten
In another's diadem?
Could I hear thy deep vow spoken,
Without a thought of pain,
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In friendship's golden chain?
Yet mine is selfish sorrow,
Which love should hush to rest,
And my heart should solace borrow
From the thought that thou art blest:
Where hope once claimed dominion,
Joy holds his revel bright,
And thy spirit's drooping pinion
Waxes strong in love's pure light.
Which love should hush to rest,
And my heart should solace borrow
From the thought that thou art blest:
Where hope once claimed dominion,
Joy holds his revel bright,
And thy spirit's drooping pinion
Waxes strong in love's pure light.
I know that thou art happy:
Oh! may affection's glass
With its diamond sparkles measure
Life's changes as they pass.
Could friendship's gentle magic
Rule thy horoscope of doom,
Not a moment e'er should meet thee
In sadness or in gloom.
Oh! may affection's glass
With its diamond sparkles measure
Life's changes as they pass.
Could friendship's gentle magic
Rule thy horoscope of doom,
Not a moment e'er should meet thee
In sadness or in gloom.
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ASPHODEL.—Asphodelus Luteus.
“My regrets follow you to the grave.”
When in the shadow of the tomb
This heart shall rest,
Oh, lay me where spring-flowerets bloom
On earth's green breast.
This heart shall rest,
Oh, lay me where spring-flowerets bloom
On earth's green breast.
But ne'er in vaulted chambers lay
My lifeless form;
Seek not of such poor worthless prey
To cheat the worm.
My lifeless form;
Seek not of such poor worthless prey
To cheat the worm.
In some sweet city of the dead
I fain would sleep,
Where flowers may deck my narrow bed,
And night-dews weep.
I fain would sleep,
Where flowers may deck my narrow bed,
And night-dews weep.
And raise not the sepulchral urn
To mark the spot;
Enough if but by love alone
'Tis ne'er forgot.
To mark the spot;
Enough if but by love alone
'Tis ne'er forgot.
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VIOLET.—Viola Tricolor.
Modesty.
Dearly I love these simple flowers,
Half hidden in their low green nest,
Yet decked in more than regal pride,
With purple robe and golden vest.
Half hidden in their low green nest,
Yet decked in more than regal pride,
With purple robe and golden vest.
Dearly I love them, for to me
With cherished memories they are fraught,
And, borne upon their perfumed breath,
Comes many a sweet and pleasant thought
With cherished memories they are fraught,
And, borne upon their perfumed breath,
Comes many a sweet and pleasant thought
Within our garden's quiet bounds
These flowers in wild profusion grow,
And wander o'er the borders trim,
As if their privilege they know.
These flowers in wild profusion grow,
And wander o'er the borders trim,
As if their privilege they know.
And there is one—a dark-eyed child,
Whose heart to all things sweet is wed;
She loves to watch the purple gems,
Glistening within their lowly bed.
Whose heart to all things sweet is wed;
She loves to watch the purple gems,
Glistening within their lowly bed.
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Her little hands with graceful skill
A simple garland oft entwine,
While she laughs out in joyous glee,
To see them in her bright locks shine.
A simple garland oft entwine,
While she laughs out in joyous glee,
To see them in her bright locks shine.
At morn, when dew-drops deck the grass,
At sunset's bright and gorgeous hours,
Still 'mid the violets is she seen:
And so we name them “Anna's flowers.”
At sunset's bright and gorgeous hours,
Still 'mid the violets is she seen:
And so we name them “Anna's flowers.”
Oh may this be an omen true,
That violet-like her life may prove,
The sweetness of a gentle heart,
Her unexacting claim to love.
That violet-like her life may prove,
The sweetness of a gentle heart,
Her unexacting claim to love.
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MONEY-WORT.—Lysimachia Nummularia.
Transient Friendship.
We shall meet no more on the green hill-side,
We shall gaze no more on the wild cascade,
No more shall our feet range far and wide,
The rugged cliff and the sunny glade.
We shall gaze no more on the wild cascade,
No more shall our feet range far and wide,
The rugged cliff and the sunny glade.
We shall roam not again by the mountain stream
As it dashes down on its rocky way,
Through the darksome glen, where the noontide beam
Scarce touches its wave with a fleeting ray.
As it dashes down on its rocky way,
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Scarce touches its wave with a fleeting ray.
We shall meet no more on the mountain height,
Where the mouldering fort in its ruin stands,
While our hearts are thrilling with proud delight
As we think on the deeds of our patriot bands.
Where the mouldering fort in its ruin stands,
While our hearts are thrilling with proud delight
As we think on the deeds of our patriot bands.
We shall wander no more amid nature's wealth,
The gold-broidered field and the silver rill,
We shall meet not again as we woo sweet health
By the shady dell or the breezy hill.
The gold-broidered field and the silver rill,
We shall meet not again as we woo sweet health
By the shady dell or the breezy hill.
Like the passing shade on the mountain's brow
Which fleets with the cloud that gave it birth,
Are the joys that our hearts are cherishing now,
The fleeting friendships of changeful earth.
Which fleets with the cloud that gave it birth,
Are the joys that our hearts are cherishing now,
The fleeting friendships of changeful earth.
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LEMON-SCENTED VERBENA.—Aloysia Citriodora.
Sensibility.
I am not cold: though 'neath the guise
Of playful mirth I fain would hide
The feelings that too wildly rise,
Rebellious to my woman's pride.
Of playful mirth I fain would hide
The feelings that too wildly rise,
Rebellious to my woman's pride.
I am not cold: when thou art nigh,
The gentle thoughts my heart that thrill
Teach me to shrink before the eye
That wins to its resistless will
The gentle thoughts my heart that thrill
Teach me to shrink before the eye
That wins to its resistless will
I am not cold: and could I fling
Upon thy path a single flower,
How gladly would each impulse spring
To meet thee in affection's hour.
Upon thy path a single flower,
How gladly would each impulse spring
To meet thee in affection's hour.
I am not cold: but I have learned
My own impatient heart to fear—
To crush those sympathies that burned
In vain through many a bygone year.
My own impatient heart to fear—
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In vain through many a bygone year.
I am not cold: love's living flame
Still glimmers on o'er hopes entombed,
And I have found, with grief and shame,
That ashes may be re-illumed.
Still glimmers on o'er hopes entombed,
And I have found, with grief and shame,
That ashes may be re-illumed.
BEE-OPHRYS.—Ophrys Apifera.
Error.
Because my heart dwelt not like cloistered nun
In lonely cell unquiet silence keeping,
Because it went forth 'neath Hope's blessed sun,
And freely shared another's joy and weeping;
Thou hast mistaken me.
In lonely cell unquiet silence keeping,
Because it went forth 'neath Hope's blessed sun,
And freely shared another's joy and weeping;
Thou hast mistaken me.
Because my sympathy awoke from sleep,
And frankly did unclose affection's portal
To thoughts of tenderness as pure, as deep,
As ever proved the human soul immortal,
Thou hast mistaken me.
And frankly did unclose affection's portal
To thoughts of tenderness as pure, as deep,
As ever proved the human soul immortal,
Thou hast mistaken me.
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Because thy feebler spirit, lacking power,
By generous thought such priceless love to measure,
Awoke its base distrust in that sweet hour
When my fond heart revealed its hidden treasure,
Thou hast mistaken me.
By generous thought such priceless love to measure,
Awoke its base distrust in that sweet hour
When my fond heart revealed its hidden treasure,
Thou hast mistaken me.
MUSK-ROSE.—Rosa Moschata
Capricious Beauty.
Bear with me, dearest: though thou art
The life of life to me,
Remember 'tis a poet's heart
That gives itself to thee;
'Tis but a wayward thing at best,
And, when with toil e'erworn,
It comes to thee beseeching rest,
It will not brook thy scorn.
The life of life to me,
Remember 'tis a poet's heart
That gives itself to thee;
'Tis but a wayward thing at best,
And, when with toil e'erworn,
It comes to thee beseeching rest,
It will not brook thy scorn.
My spirit wearied with high thought
Shrinks from its prophet task,
And in thy presence I have sought
To doff life's weary mask;
I come to thee for love and peace,
When my soul's light grows dim,
I can not watch thy sweet caprice,
Or learn each dainty whim.
Shrinks from its prophet task,
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To doff life's weary mask;
I come to thee for love and peace,
When my soul's light grows dim,
I can not watch thy sweet caprice,
Or learn each dainty whim.
Oh! had we met in life's glad morn,
When joy thrilled every vein,
Such gentle bondage I had borne,
And wreathed with flowers the chain;
But now I can not gather up.
The rose-bud's fallen leaves,
I can not fill life's wasted cup,
Or bind hope's scattered sheaves.
When joy thrilled every vein,
Such gentle bondage I had borne,
And wreathed with flowers the chain;
But now I can not gather up.
The rose-bud's fallen leaves,
I can not fill life's wasted cup,
Or bind hope's scattered sheaves.
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CYPRESS.—Cupressus Sempervirens.
Despair.
They deck thee as a bride,
They dress me for the bier,
Thy bosom thrills with pride,
And mine with solemn fear,
For Love is at thy side,
While Death to me draws near.
They dress me for the bier,
Thy bosom thrills with pride,
And mine with solemn fear,
For Love is at thy side,
While Death to me draws near.
No longer on the blast
My heart's deep wail I pour;
My life-long dream is past,
And passion rules no more;
I've loved thee to the last,
But now e'en love is o'er.
My heart's deep wail I pour;
My life-long dream is past,
And passion rules no more;
I've loved thee to the last,
But now e'en love is o'er.
Upon thy bridal day
It may be we shall meet,
Thou in thy bright array,
I in my winding sheet.
Wilt thou then turn away
From the coffin at thy feet?
It may be we shall meet,
Thou in thy bright array,
I in my winding sheet.
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From the coffin at thy feet?
I've watched the setting sun,
The last I e'er shall see,
Life's sluggish race is run,
Its goal was misery,
And my latest task is done
When I say farewell to thee.
The last I e'er shall see,
Life's sluggish race is run,
Its goal was misery,
And my latest task is done
When I say farewell to thee.
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ASH-LEAVED TRUMPET FLOWER.—Bignonia.
Separation.
Farewell to thee, Love,
When I meet thee again,
Light hearts will be round us,
And pageantries vain;
But well do I know
In life's sunniest hours
Thou 'lt think of our meeting
'Mid moonlight and flowers.
When I meet thee again,
Light hearts will be round us,
And pageantries vain;
But well do I know
In life's sunniest hours
Thou 'lt think of our meeting
'Mid moonlight and flowers.
Farewell to thee, dearest,
And oh! in thy dreams,
When fancy sheds o'er thee
Her loveliest beams,
Then think of our roving
In summer's fair bowers—
And remember our meeting,
'Mid moonlight and flowers.
And oh! in thy dreams,
When fancy sheds o'er thee
Her loveliest beams,
Then think of our roving
In summer's fair bowers—
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'Mid moonlight and flowers.
HOLLY.—Ilex Aquilegia.
“Am I forgotten?”
I am not changed, I am not cold,
Time has not made me-scorn or doubt thee;
But, since the blissful days of old,
My heart has learned to do without thee.
Time has not made me-scorn or doubt thee;
But, since the blissful days of old,
My heart has learned to do without thee.
The charm that in thy presence dwelt,
The spells thy voice could weave around me,
Are over now, since I have felt
How fragile were the ties that bound thee.
The spells thy voice could weave around me,
Are over now, since I have felt
How fragile were the ties that bound thee.
I did not woo thee, mine was not
A freak of fancy or of fashion,
A yearning waked to be forgot,
A dream half sentiment, half passion.
A freak of fancy or of fashion,
A yearning waked to be forgot,
A dream half sentiment, half passion.
Something of love, but passion-free,
Something of friendship but far fonder,
Devotion that still turned to thee,
However far thy thoughts might wander;
Something of friendship but far fonder,
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However far thy thoughts might wander;
Such were the gifts I would have laid
With deep humility before thee;
But all unmarked such offerings fade,
While others, less sincere, adore thee.
With deep humility before thee;
But all unmarked such offerings fade,
While others, less sincere, adore thee.
Now all is changed—I know not why—
No word of coldness has been spoken;
And yet I feel the secret tie
That bound our souls for ever broken.
No word of coldness has been spoken;
And yet I feel the secret tie
That bound our souls for ever broken.
Oh! I could weep—although there still
Are many pleasures left to cheer me;
Though hope can yet my bosom thrill,
And friends oft tried and true are near me;—
Are many pleasures left to cheer me;
Though hope can yet my bosom thrill,
And friends oft tried and true are near me;—
Though there are joys thou couldst not blight—
Which will not leave me lonely-hearted—
Yet ah! how much of pleasant light
Has, with thee, from my life departed!
Which will not leave me lonely-hearted—
Yet ah! how much of pleasant light
Has, with thee, from my life departed!
Farewell—yet no!—I will not say
That word fraught with unmingled sadness;
We yet shall meet amid the gay,
In scenes of revelry and gladness.
That word fraught with unmingled sadness;
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In scenes of revelry and gladness.
Yet never more the whispered word,
Our mystic sympathy confessing,
Shall thrill the heart too wildly stirred
To utter then its fervent blessing.
Our mystic sympathy confessing,
Shall thrill the heart too wildly stirred
To utter then its fervent blessing.
Yes—we are parted: we may meet
Amid the world's enforced communion;
But gone are all the tokens sweet,
That sealed our bond of spirit union.
Amid the world's enforced communion;
But gone are all the tokens sweet,
That sealed our bond of spirit union.
Yet better thus: my heart has turned
More fondly to the true and real,
Since I, in bitterness, have learned
How false may be the soul's Ideal.
More fondly to the true and real,
Since I, in bitterness, have learned
How false may be the soul's Ideal.
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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;
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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.
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WHITE POPPY.—Papaver Somniferum.
The Consolation of Forgetfulness.
Oh, for one draught of Lethe now!
Oh, that I might but stoop to lave
The fever of my burning brow,
In dark oblivion's icy wave!
Oh, that I might but stoop to lave
The fever of my burning brow,
In dark oblivion's icy wave!
My heart is filled with doubts and fears,
Haunted by memories of the dead,
And sends too oft its tide of tears
To eyes that now no tears must shed.
Haunted by memories of the dead,
And sends too oft its tide of tears
To eyes that now no tears must shed.
Could I but drink of Lethe's stream,
How gladly would I now forget
The form of many a happy dream,
Whose faded spectre haunts me yet.
How gladly would I now forget
The form of many a happy dream,
Whose faded spectre haunts me yet.
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Hopes, budding but to be destroyed,
Joys dying e'er they scarce had birth,
Time wasted, talents unemployed,
Love poured like water on the earth:
Joys dying e'er they scarce had birth,
Time wasted, talents unemployed,
Love poured like water on the earth:
These are the thoughts I fain would sink
Beneath oblivion's tideless sea;
How would I grasp the cup, and drink
A last farewell to memory.
Beneath oblivion's tideless sea;
How would I grasp the cup, and drink
A last farewell to memory.
My days are fleeting swiftly by,
My heart's glad youth e'en now is past;
Why should mere breath—a lengthened sigh—
So long the life of life outlast?
My heart's glad youth e'en now is past;
Why should mere breath—a lengthened sigh—
So long the life of life outlast?
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WOODBINE.—Lonicera Periclymenon.
Fraternal Love.
Come back, come back, my brother; we miss thee at the board
Where wit's diamond sparks are flashing, while the ruby wine is poured;
We miss thy smile of quiet mirth—we miss the heart-beam bright,
Which from thy calm and earnest eye sheds forth its genial light.
Where wit's diamond sparks are flashing, while the ruby wine is poured;
We miss thy smile of quiet mirth—we miss the heart-beam bright,
Which from thy calm and earnest eye sheds forth its genial light.
Come back, come back, my brother; we miss thee at the hour
When the dew of Heaven falls silently on moonlit tree and flower,
We miss thy low and gentle voice—we miss the converse high,
That bears us, as on angel wings, to commune with the sky.
When the dew of Heaven falls silently on moonlit tree and flower,
We miss thy low and gentle voice—we miss the converse high,
That bears us, as on angel wings, to commune with the sky.
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Come back, come back, my brother; till thou the Priest art come
The oracles of mystic life within our souls are dumb;
We live too much 'mid outward things, the spirit's light grows dim,
And only an unsullied hand the sacred flame may trim.
The oracles of mystic life within our souls are dumb;
We live too much 'mid outward things, the spirit's light grows dim,
And only an unsullied hand the sacred flame may trim.
| Love's token-flowers | |