THE FABLES OF FLORA. 



That far from Envy's lurid eye 

 The fairest fruits of Genius rear, 



Content to see them bloom and die 

 In Friendship's small but kindly sphere. 



Than vainer flowers though sweeter far, 

 The Evening Primrose shuns the day; 



Blooms only to the western star, 

 And loves its solitary ray. 



In Eden's vale an aged hind, 



At the dim twilight's closing hour. 



On his time-smoothed staff reclined. 

 With wonder viewed the opening flower. 



'* Ill-fated flower, at eve to blow," 

 In pity's simple thought he cries, 



" Thy bosom must not feel the glow 

 " Of splendid suns, or smiling skies. 



