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PLANTING FLOWERS ON THE GRAYE OF PARENTS.
��I'VE set the flow'rets where ye sleep,
Father and mother dear, Their roots are in the mould so deep,
Their bosoms bear a tear, The tear-drop of the dewy morn
Their trembling casket fills, Mix'd with that essence from the heart
That filial love distils.
Above thy pillow, mother dear,
I 've plac'd thy favourite flower, The bright-ey : d purple violet,
That deck'd thy summer-bower ; The fragrant camomile, that spreads
Its verdure, fresh and green, And richly broiders every niche,
The velvet turf between.
I kiss'd the tender violet, That droop 'd its stranger-head Q 2
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