ON READING A FRAGMENT CALLED "THE FLOWER OF THE FOREST."
Sing on, sweetest songster the woodland can boast;
Sing on, for it charms, though it sorrows my breast;
The strains, though so mournful, shall never be lost,
Till this throbbing bosom has murmured to rest.
Sing on, for it charms, though it sorrows my breast;
The strains, though so mournful, shall never be lost,
Till this throbbing bosom has murmured to rest.
The sweet Flower of the Forest on memory's page
Shall bloom undecaying while life lingers near,
Unhurt by the storms which around it shall rage,
By sorrow's sigh fanned, and bedewed by a tear.
Shall bloom undecaying while life lingers near,
Unhurt by the storms which around it shall rage,
By sorrow's sigh fanned, and bedewed by a tear.
