134 



THE ORCHIDS OF NEW ENGLAND. 



years, of a society for their protection. Unhappily, it is not 

 always the ignorant pleasure-seeker who offends ; one can for- 

 give him when he tramples underfoot the flower that has 

 served to amuse him for the passing moment, but when it 

 comes to a professed botanist, who with selfish motives uproots 

 right and left and blots out name after name in the Flora of a 

 locality, it should be his lot to be branded with a longer and 

 more unflattering adjective than any he has written under the 

 crumbling, graceless specimens in his herbarium. The axe and 

 the drain-tile, too, will have their own way, and when we can 

 no longer defend our favorites from the despoiler or remove 

 them to some equally congenial swamp or forest, we can as a 

 last resort give them, in our own gardens, the protection of 

 fences, watch dogs, and city laws. 



CALYPSO. 



The sun-lit copse is passed, the shadows thicken, 



With bated breath I press 

 Along the narrow path, now lost, now sighted, 



That threads the wilderness. 



Lest jealous bee or tattling wind give warning, 



And from her dewy glade 

 The timid deity take flight to regions 



No mortal can invade. 



Not here nor there my wearied eyes behold her, 



(Dimmed by her spells, perchance), 

 The fir-trees glower and the cedars brandish 



Their arms at my advance. 



Is this her shrine, where jeweled cobwebs tremble, 



Silk curtains, rudely rent 

 As at my step profane the goddess hastened ? 



(These tender ferns are bent). 



