THE FABLES OF FLORA. 



81 



'* Go, teach the drone of saintly haunts, 

 " Whose cell's the sepulchre of time; 



^* Though many a holy hymn he chaunts, 

 *' His life is one continued crime. 



" And bear them hence, the plant, the flower; 



*' No symbols those of systems vain! 

 ** They have the duties of their hour; 



** Some bird, some insect to sustain." 



^a^. 



''W^^ 



^ -^'"' * f^ 



