Willow Branch:
To sorrow's own sweet crown,
With simple grace,
The weeping-willow bends her branches down
Just like a mother's arm,
To shield from harm,
The dead within their resting place.
Lily:
The angel flower of all the flowers:
Its sister flowers,
In all the bowers
Worship the lily, for it brings,
Wherever it blooms,
On shrines or tombs,
A dream surpassing earthly sense
Of heaven's own stainless innocence.
Violet Leaves:
It is too late for violets,
I only bring their leaves,
I looked in vain for mignonettes
To grace the crown grief weaves;
For queenly May, upon her way,
Robs half the bowers
Of all their flowers,
And leaves but leaves to June.
Ah! beauty fades so soon;
And the valley grows lonely in spite of the sun,
For flowerets are fading fast, one by one.
Leaves for a grave, leaves for a garland,
Leaves for a little flower, gone to the far-land.
Forget-Me-Not:
"Forget-me-not!" The sad words strangely quiver
On lips, like shadows falling on a river,
Flowing away,
By night, by day,
Flowing away forever.
The mountain whence the river springs
Murmurs to it, "forget me not;"
The little stream runs on and sings
On to the sea, and every spot
It passes by
Breathes forth a sigh,
"Forget me not!" "forget me not!"
A Garland:
I bring this for her mother; ah, who knows
The lonely deeps within a mother's heart?
Beneath the wildest wave of woe that flows
Above, around her, when her children part,
There is a sorrow, silent, dark, and lone;
It sheds no tears, it never maketh moan.
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