Come flowers! for we to each other belong,
Come graceful elf,
And around my lute in sympathy strong
Now wind thyself;
And quake as if mov’d by zephyr’s wing,
’Neath the clang of the chord,
And a morning song with glee we’ll sing
To our Maker and Lord!

* * * * *

London:

Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W.

Edition limited to Thirty Copies.