Alien blossoms! tell me why
Seek ye such a lonely place,
Thus to bloom, and droop, and die
Far away from all your race?
Wherefore, from the sunny bowers
Where your beauteous kindred bloom,
Have ye come, O banished flowers!
Thus to decorate a tomb?
"Mortal, dost thou question why
Thus beside the grave we bloom?
Why we hither come to die,
Aliens from our garden-home?
"'Twas Affection's gentle hand
Placed us thus her dead so near;—
Tis at weeping Love's command
That we breathe our fragrance here.
"Ask not why we wither here,
Thou who ne'er hast tasted woe,
Who hast never felt the tear
Of bereaved affection flow,—
"Ask not, till thy household band
By death's cruel stroke is riven,
Till some bright bird'scapes thy hand—
Then thy answer will be given!"