LOVE. To say he loved, Were to affirm, what oft his eyes avouch'd, I saw a struggle, But knew not what it was; I wondered still When next he fixed to go; and sank it then To bound no more! He went. J. SHERIDAN KNOWLES. THE PASSION FLOWER. ILD superstition named the flower In memory of that awful hour, When He whom heaven and earth adore The death of shame and sorrow bore. They called the purple circlet there "Tis fancy all-yet do not scorn The thought of adoration born! But let each flower that meets our sight There's not one flower that decks the vale, To Him who dwells beyond the skies. |