Hope has her emblem, so has Love,           

             But I have vainly sought           

             For one, that might entirely prove           

             The picture of my thought.           

                        

             If violets, when fresh with dew,           

             Could amaranthine be,           

             Their soothing, deep, and glowing hue           

             Would justly speak for me.           

                        

             Or to some plant with tendrils fine,           

             With blossoms sweet and gay,           

             This office I would now assign;           

             But flowers will all decay!           

                        

             A bird would suit my purpose more,           

             With filial heart endued;           

             But, ere their little life is o'er,           

             Birds lose their gratitude!           

                        

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