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[35] The one, with bridal blush of rose,
     And sweetest breath of woodland balm,
And one whose matron lips unclose
     In smiles of saintly calm.

Fill soft and deep, O winter snow!
     The sweet azalea's oaken dells,
And hide the bank where roses blow,
     And swing the azure bells!

O'erlay the amber violet's leaves,
     The purple aster's brookside home,
Guard all the flowers her pencil gives
     A life beyond their bloom.

And she, when spring comes round again,
     By greening slope and singing flood
Shall wander, seeking, not in vain,
     Her darlings of the wood.

1855.

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1855 AD (1)
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