| Show DEAD FLOWERS A tuft of mignonette a witherell withered rose I 1 numberless foolish hearts have treasured buch now as aa I 1 lift them from their long repose they turn to dust and crumble at a touch poor flowers that meant so much I 1 they meant pure love aud limitless belief in summers faithfulness in sunny skies they mean one lonely pang of silent grief just one true tear that in a moment dries for even sorrow dies so with the millions milli who have hoarded flowers the frail love token lasts the hearts love goes mans vaunted strength of womans comans boasted powers are more ephemeral even than the i ose the frailest flower that blows I 1 A withered rose a tuft of mignonette I 1 how passing weak must bo be the human heart for these outlive even love outlast regret abide even when grim pain with blunt dart makes ready to depart |
