The Evergreen.

Love can not be the aloe-tree,

Whose bloom but once is seen;

Go search the grove — the tree of love

Is sure the evergreen:

For that's the same, in leaf or frame,

‘ Neath cold or sunny skies;

You take the ground its roots have bound,

Or it, transplanted, dies!

That love thus shoots, and firmly roots

In woman's heart, we see;

Through smiles and tears in after-years

It grows a fadeless tree.

The tree of love, all trees above,

For ever may be seen,

In summer's bloom or winter's gloom,

A hardy evergreen.