The Poetry Corner

An Easter Flower.

By George W. Doneghy

I. The flower that she gave to me Has withered now and died-- But yet with fond fidelity Its faded leaves abide. II. The petals that so fragrant then She wore upon her breast-- Still clinging to the lifeless stem, With miser care possessed. III. As when in sweetest purity It shed its perfume rare, A symbol dear 'twill ever be Of one divinely fair! IV. Plucked by the cruel hand of Death In beauty's youthful bloom-- She perished with his chilling breath, And withered in the tomb. V. But I will cherish ever thus The token that she gave When sun-lit skies were over us, Unclouded by the grave!