14 THE FABLES OF FLORA. 



So fair, each mora, so full of grace. 

 Within their little garden reared. 



The flower of Phg^bus turned her face 

 To meet the Power she loved and feared. 



And where, along the rising sky. 

 Her God in brighter glory burned. 



Still there her fond observant eye, 



And there her golden breast she turned. 



When calling from their Weary height 

 On western waves his beams to rest. 



Still there she sought the parting sight. 

 And there she turned her golden breast. 



But soon as night's invidious shade 

 Afar his lovely looks had borne. 



With folded leaves and drooping head. 

 Full sore she grieved, as one forlorn. 



