Sweet floret! beauty of a day,
And transient as thou'rt sweet;
Scarce opening to the morning ray
Ere shrinking from its heat:
Noon faded sees each early charm,
Thy blue eye closed in death;
And evening's breeze, thy wasted form
Wafts lightly o'er the heath.
While thus, sweet child of summer skies,
I see thee bloom and die;
What tender recollections rise
To prompt the pensive sigh:
For once in this lone bosom grew
As fair, as sweet a flower,
That smiled and budded forth like you
In morn's propitious hour;
But ah! while joy and hope were new
And promised bliss secure;
Like you, it drooping faded too--
And sunk to bloom no more.
Oft as I through the twilight gloom
A wandering mourner stray;
Pale shadowy tenant of the tomb,
She seems to cross my way:
For every object, every scene
Does my lost love recall,
From cheerful morning's rising beam
To mournful evening's fall.
Our readers must not be induced to cast aside the following poem, from
its length. It is full of genuine feeling and pious sentiment.