140 FLORA AND THALIA. 



THE WALL-FLOWER. 



From the Fables of Flora. 



" Whx loves my flower, the sweetest flower. 

 That swells the golden breast of May, 



Thrown rudely o'er yon ruined tower, 

 To waste her solitary day 1 



" Why, when the mead, the spicy vale, 

 The grove and genial garden call. 



Will she her fragrant soul exhale, 

 Unheeded on the lonely wall ! 



"For never sure was beauty born 

 To live in death's deserted shade ! 



Come, lovely flower, my banks adorn, 

 My banks for life and beauty made." 



Thus pity waked the tender thought, 

 And by her sweet persuasion led, 



To seize the hermit flower I sought. 

 And bear her from her stony bed. 



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