Remember Thee - Kostenloses Hörbuch

THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.

Fly swift, my light gazelle,
  To her who now lies waking,
To hear thy silver bell
  The midnight silence breaking.
And, when thou com'st, with gladsome feet,
  Beneath her lattice springing,
Ah, well she'll know how sweet
  The words of love thou'rt bringing.

Yet, no—not words, for they
  But half can tell love's feeling;
Sweet flowers alone can say
  What passion fears revealing.
A once bright rose's withered leaf,
  A towering lily broken,—
Oh these may paint a grief
  No words could e'er have spoken.

Not such, my gay gazelle,
  The wreath thou speedest over
Yon moonlight dale, to tell
  My lady how I love her.
And, what to her will sweeter be
  Than gems the richest, rarest,—
From Truth's immortal tree[1]
  One fadeless leaf thou bearest.

[1] The tree called in the East, Amrita, or the Immortal.