I. The Flower That She Gave To Me Has Withered Now And Died-- But Yet With Fond Fidelity Its Faded Leaves Abide. Ii. The Petals That So Fragrant Then She Wore Upon Her Breast-- Still Clinging To The Lifeless Stem, With Miser Care Possessed. Iii. As When In Sweetest Purity It Shed Its Perfume Rare, A Symbol Dear 'Twill Ever Be Of One Divinely Fair! Iv. Plucked By The Cruel Hand Of Death In Beauty'S Youthful Bloom-- She Perished With His Chilling Breath, And Withered In The Tomb. V. But I Will Cherish Ever Thus The Token That She Gave When Sun-Lit Skies Were Over Us, Unclouded By The Grave!