The Bouquet.

From: Poems (1844)
Author: Christopher Pearse Cranch
Published: Carey and Hart 1844 Philadelphia

The Bouquet.

SHE has brought me flowers to deck my room,
Of sweetest scent and brilliancy;
She knew not that she was the while
The fairest flower of all to me.

Since her soft eyes have looked on them,
What tenderer beauties in them dwell!
Since her fair hands have placed them there,
0 how much sweeter do they smell!

Beside my inkstand and my books
They bloom in perfume and in light:
A voice amid my lonesomeness,
A shining star amid my night.

The storm beats down upon the roof,
But in this room glide summer hours,
Since she, the fairest flower of all,
Has garlanded my heart with flowers.

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