8
POEMS.
Where the tall trees shaded us all day,
'Till the sun's fierce heat was o'er,
And we are dying far away;
They will never see us more."
The flower's words were choked with woe,
For their hearts were breaking fast,
And their tears in bitter sorrow flow,
As they mourn their folly past.
As they think that had they ever been
Contented in their dell,
They might have graced its tranquil scene,
Where they were loved so well.
"Oh! that we ne'er had from thee fled,"
In agony they sighed,
And bowing down each drooping head,
The blighted flowers died!
H. A.
'Till the sun's fierce heat was o'er,
And we are dying far away;
They will never see us more."
The flower's words were choked with woe,
For their hearts were breaking fast,
And their tears in bitter sorrow flow,
As they mourn their folly past.
As they think that had they ever been
Contented in their dell,
They might have graced its tranquil scene,
Where they were loved so well.
"Oh! that we ne'er had from thee fled,"
In agony they sighed,
And bowing down each drooping head,
The blighted flowers died!
H. A.
