The Faded Flower
Ungrateful he, who pluck'd thee from thy stalk,Poor faded flow'ret! on his careless way;Inhal'd awhile thy odours on his walk,Then onward pass'd and left thee to decay.Ah! melancholy emblem! had I seenThy modest beauties dew'd with Evening's gem,I had not rudely cropp'd thy parent stem,But left thee, blushing, 'mid the enliven'd green.And now I bend me o'er thy wither'd bloom,And drop the tear - as Fancy, at my side,Deep-sighing, points the fair frail Abra's tomb -'Like thine, sad Flower, was that poor wanderer's pride!Oh! lost to Love and Truth, whose selfish joyTasted her vernal sweets, but tasted to destroy!'
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