. . .Hath plucked thee from that shady land Where clear, cool waters lie, And velvet mosses kissed thy feet? Who took thee from thy loved retreat, And left thee here to die? Thou fairest gem of all the earth— E'en bonnie wilds that gave thee birth Thy petals' sweetness hold. I drink thy breath in fragrant draught, Sweeter than royal lips e'er quaffed From cups of burnished gold. Who took thee from thy crystal home, Where finny tribes delight to roam And frisk in morning play; Where never harsher sound was heard Than fall of leaf or trill of bird, Or winds that softly sway [Pg 16] The trees that bend thy nook above, And, bending, whispered low of love To thee, my bonnie flower, Or whir of swallows' silken flight Across the waves, the calm delight Of evening's dappling shower? Although thou'rt crushed beneath my feet, Thy dewy fragrance is more sweet Than at thy frail life's dawn. Thus, flow'r of love and purity, This lesson I have learned of thee: Tha. . . Read More