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Bring flowers, pale flowers, for the festal board,
To wreathe the cup ere the wine is pour'd;
Bring flowers! they are springing in wood & vale,
Their breath flows out the southern gale;
And the touch of the sunbeam hath waken'd the rose
To deck the hall where the bright wine flows.

Bring flowers to strew in the conqueror's path. -
He hath shaken thrones with his stormy wrath;
He comes with the spoils of nations back;
The vines he crush'd in his chariot's track;
The turf looks red where he won the day.-
Bring flowers to die in the conqueror's way!

Bring flowers to the captive's lonely cell,
They have tales of the joyous woods to tell;
Of the free blue streams, and the glowing sky,
And the bright world, shut from his languid eye
They will bear him a thought of the sunny hours,
And a dream of his youth,- bring him flowers,-
-wild flowers.
Bring flowers, fresh flowers, for the bride to wear
They were born to blush in her shining hair.
She is leaving the home of her childish mirth,
She hath bid farewell to her father's hearth.