WILLIAM PHILPOT

7^7. Marittc Su^c

i

all the flowers rising now, Thou only saw'st the head Of that unopen'd drop of snow I placed beside thy bed.

In all the blooms that blow so fast,

Thou hast no further part, Save those the hour I saw thee last,

I laid above thy heart.

Two snowdrops for our boy and girl,

A primrose blown for me, Wreathed with one often-play'd-with curl

From each bright head for thee.

And so I graced thee for thy grave,

And made these tokens fast With that old silver heart I gave,

My first gift and my last.

II

I dream'd, her babe upon her breast, Here she might lie and calmly rest Her happy eyes on that far hill That backs the landscape fresh and still.

I hoped her thoughts would thrid the boughs Where careless birds on love carouse, And gaze those apple-blossoms through To revel in the boundless blue.

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