106 ROSE. 



The stalk some spirit quickly rears, 

 And waters with celestial tears; 



For well may maids of Helle deem 

 That this can be no earthly flower, 

 Which mocks the tempest's withering hour, 

 And buds unshelter'd by a bower ; 

 Nor droops though Spring refuse her shower, 



Nor wooes the Summer beam : 

 To it the livelong night there sings 

 A bird unseen, but not remote; 

 Invisible his airy wings, 

 But soft as harp that Houri strings, 

 His lone entrancing note. 



BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



Yonder is a girl who lingers 



Where wild honeysuckle grows, 



Mingling with the Briar-rose; 



And with eager outstretch'd fingers. 



Tip-toe standing, vainly tries 



To reach the hedge-enveloped prize. 



H. SMITH. 



Wound in the hedge-rows' oaken boughs 

 The woodbine's tassels float in air. 

 And, blushing, the uncultured Rose 

 Hangs high her beauteous blossoms there. 



SMITH. 



