Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/229

Yet, like a hero, didst thou rise, to meet the spoiler's dart,
And battle till the pure life-blood ran curdling round thy heart.

My poor sweet-pea, my constant friend, whene'er I've sought in vain
To twine a full bouquet for one who press'd the couch of pain,
Or when my fading parterre fail'd my mantel-piece to dress,
Thou always gav'st a hoarded gem to help me in distress.

But thou, dear lonely violet, thus smiling in my path,
I marvel much how thou hast scap'd the tyrant's deadly wrath;
Didst thou hide beneath thy neighbour's robe, so flaunting, and so fine,
To bid one sad good morning more, and press thy lips to mine?

Good-bye, my pretty flowering bean, that with a right good-will
O'er casement, arch, and trellis, went climbing, climbing still
Till the stern destroyer mark'd thee, and in his bitter ire
Quench'd out thy many scarlet spikes, that glow'd like living fire.