Page:Forget Me Not (1824).djvu/283
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The lingering perfume of thy flower,
Its dying fragrance, sadly sweet,
Though faint to that of summer's bower,
It still is soothing thus to greet.
Its dying fragrance, sadly sweet,
Though faint to that of summer's bower,
It still is soothing thus to greet.
The gusty winds, the dark'ning cloud,
The chilly mists, and rain, and dews,
And drifted leaves which half enshroud
Thy beauties,—all delight my Muse,
The chilly mists, and rain, and dews,
And drifted leaves which half enshroud
Thy beauties,—all delight my Muse,
And boast a charm which far outvies
The grace of summer's proudest day,
When varied blooms of richer dyes
Unfolded to the sun's warm ray.
The grace of summer's proudest day,
When varied blooms of richer dyes
Unfolded to the sun's warm ray.