Cheering its ruin, and united still
Even amid decay, like faithful love,
Clinging more closely to the wounded spirit.
Around were brightest flowers; the myrtle flung
Its snowy buds—a wreath for constancy;
The young moss-rose threw from its vermil cheek,
The green veil, fresh and beautiful as those
That caught their warm carnation from the lips
Of Venus, when she kiss'd their fragrant leaves;
Fraught with cerulean hues, the violet
Half-open'd, timidly, its fair blue eyes;
Close by it's side, the lily pensively
Bow'd down its languid head, pale as the cheek
Faded by sorrow. There the hyacinth bloom'd
With liveliest colours; some like rubies glow'd,
Some bright with tyrian purple; others wore
The melting azure of a summer sky;
Some white and stainless, others ting'd with red,
Like the last warmth of a departing blush.
