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This gentle band are form'd with thee to feel,
And well they prize what thou would'st fain conceal.
Come, loved and fearless, while our care shall set
Fast by thy side, thy sister Violet,
Still cheerful, unobtrusive, and serene,
To grace the high, or deck the lowly scene;
High be his bosom honor'd who shall gain
This as a solace, and a charm for pain.
The Woodbine next, whose graceful tendrils twine
In sweet luxuriance round the parent vine,
Whose heaven-born fragrance breathes reviving power,
'Neath dewy evening, or the summer shower,
Shall bless our wreath, for this can teach to glow
The morn of pleasure, or the night of woe.
Thou, too, pale Lily, leave thy native vale,
And yield thine essence to our fresher gale,
What though thy bending head no gaze would meet,
Thy perfume guides us to thy green retreat,
Where lingering zephyrs round thee gently sigh,
And catch the tones of music as they fly.