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FLOWERS OF AUTUMN.
H, these are the last of my flowers! These pansies of purple and white;These mourning-brides, heavy with showers, And veiled in the colors of night;This perfume-distilling sweet-pea, Where the honey, unrobbed, lingers yet;Forget-me-nots, blue as the sea, And sprays of the sweet mignonette.The last of my flowers in the vase! No more shall I steal out to viewEach fresh-budded, glad little face A-nodding at me in the dew;No more shall I kiss them apart In childish impatience of time;While the currents of love in my heart Swell into the flower-buds of rhyme.
Ah me! when my summer shall die, And Grief drops for me her sad showers,
