The Flower of the Valley

Sweet flower of the valley, why droop'st thou so low?
Ah! why is thy beauty all faded and gone?
Ah! who could destroy thee, — who wield the sad blow, —
Who rifle thy charms in their earliest dawn?

So gay was the morning that rose as you blew,
So fragrant the zephyrs that fluttered around,
So soft didst thou smile through thy mantle of dew,
No lovelier flower in the valley was found.

But see, on the turf all thy beauties are laid,
Thy leaves, they are scattered, thy sweetness is gone:
Thy colors — once gay as the rainbow — now fade
As fast as the hues that enliven the dawn.

Sweet flower! once the sweetest that bloomed in the vale, —
Sweet flower! we will weep, for thy beauties are fled, —
For those charms that are gone we will pour the sad wail,
And chant o'er thy ruins the dirge of the dead.
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