138 FLORA AND THALIA. 



THE WALL-FLOWER. 



To me thy site disconsolate, 



On turret, wail, or tower, 

 Makes thee appear misfortune's mate. 



And desolation's dower. 



Thou ask'st no kindly cultured soil 



Thy native bed to be; 

 Thou need'st not man's officious toil 



To plant or water thee. 



Sown by the winds, thou meekly rear'st 



On ruins' crumbling crest, 

 Thy fragile form ; and there appear'st 



In smiling beauty drest. 



There in the bleak and earthless bed, 

 Thou braVst the tempest's strife ; 



And giv'st what else were cold and dead, 

 A lingering glow of life. 



BABTOlf. 



