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LOVE'S LAND.
LOVE'S LAND.
N the South is Love's land, Where the roses blow,
Where the summer lingers
Fearless of the snow.
There no winter chills it,
So its life is long,—
Gentle breezes fan it,
Age but makes it strong."
"Nay, fresh roses wither
Where the sun is hot,—
Not in torrid regions
Blooms Forget-me-not.
Love's a tender blossom
Which the Winter chills,
But the eager Summer
Kisses it, and kills."
Where the sun is hot,—
Not in torrid regions
Blooms Forget-me-not.
Love's a tender blossom
Which the Winter chills,
But the eager Summer
Kisses it, and kills."
