A GARLAND 57 



Grossest hand can test us ; 

 Fools may prize us never ; 



Yet we rise, and rise, and rise, marvels sweet for 

 ever. 



Who shall say that flowers 

 Dress not heaven's own bowers ? 

 Who its love without them can fancy or sweet 



floor ? 



Who shall even dare 

 To say we sprang not there, 

 And came not down, that Love might bring one 



piece of heaven the more ? 

 Oh ! pray believe that angels 

 From those blue dominions 



Brought us in their white laps down, 'twixt their 

 golden pinions. 



LEIGH HUNT. 



A GARLAND 



(From " The Muses Elytium ") 



HERE damask Roses, white and red, 



Out of my lap first take I, 

 Which still shall run along the thread, 



My chiefest flower this make I ; 

 Amongst these Roses in a row, 



Next place I pinks in plenty, 

 These double daisies then for show, 



And will not this be dainty ? 



