Companion To The Foregoing

Never enlivened with the liveliest ray That fosters growth or checks or cheers decay, Nor by the heaviest rain-drops more deprest, This Flower, that first appeared as summer's guest, Preserves her beauty 'mid autumnal leaves And to her mournful habits fondly cleaves. When files of stateliest plants have ceased to bloom, One after one submitting to their doom, When her coevals each and all are fled, What keeps her thus reclined upon her lonesome bed? The old mythologists, more impressed than we Of this late day by character in tree Or herb, that claimed peculiar sympathy, Or by the silent lapse of fountain clear, Or with the language of the viewless air By bird or beast made vocal, sought a cause To solve the mystery, not in Nature's laws But in Man's fortunes. Hence a thousand tales Sung to the plaintive lyre in Grecian vales. Nor doubt that something of their spirit swayed The fancy-stricken Youth or heart-sick Maid, Who, while each stood companionless and eyed This undeparting Flower in crimson dyed, Thought of a wound which death is slow to cure, A fate that has endured and will endure, And, patience coveting yet passion feeding, Called the dejected Lingerer, 'Loves lies bleeding'.