SORREL, Wild. 



(Continued.) 



The world's large tongue 

 Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks ; 

 Full of comparisons, and wounding flouts ; 

 Which you on all estates will execute, 

 That lie within the mercy of your wit. . . Shaks, 



Wit, how delicious to man's dainty taste ! 

 'Tis precious as the vehicle of sense ; 

 But, as its substitute, a dire disease. 

 Pernicious talent ! flattered by the world, 

 By the blind world, which thinks the talent rare. 



Young. 



Wit, makes an enterpriser ; sense, a man. 



Wit, widow'd of good sense, is worse than nought ; 



It hoists more sail to run against a rock. . . same. 



SPEEDWELL. 

 Veronica. 



Female fidelity. Oh ! woman's love 's a holy light, 



And when 'tis kindled, ne'er can die, 

 It lives, though treachery and slight 

 To quench the constant flame may try. 



A 



Like ivy, where it grows 'tis seen 



To wear an everlasting green : 



Like ivy, too, 'tis found to cling 



Too often round a worthless thing Anon. 



Pure, as the snow the summer sun 

 Never at noon hath look'd upon 

 Deep, as is the diamond wave, 

 Hidden in the desert cave 

 Changeless, as the greenest leaves 

 Of the wreath the cypress weaves 

 Hopeless, often, when most fond 

 Without hope or fear beyond 



Its own pale fidelity _ 



And this woman's love can be. / . . . . L. E. L. 



SPIDER WORT. 



Tradescantia virginica. 



/ esteem, but do not 

 love you. 



There 's something tells me, (but it is not love,) 



I would not lose you ; and you know yourself, 



Hate counsels not in such a quality. . . . Shaks. 



Oh, do not talk to me of love, 



'Tis deepest cruelty to me 



Why throw a net around the bird, 



That might be happy, light, and free ? . Westmacott. 



There is in love a ceaseless vestal flame, 



Oh, surely this is not what thou wouldst claim ; 



The pledge of friendship (wilt thou not receive ?) 



Is truly yours 'tis all my heart can give. . . <S**n. 



