88 WITH HERBS AND FLOWERS 



A ROSE 



BLOWN in the morning, thou shall fade ere noon. 



What boots a life which in such haste forsakes thee ? 



Thou'rt wondrous frolic, being to die so soon, 



And passing proud a little colour makes thee. 



If thee thy brittle beauty so deceives, 



Know then the thing that swells thee is thy bane ; 



For the same beauty doth, in bloody leaves, 



The sentence of thy early death contain. 



Some clown's coarse lungs will poison thy sweet 



flower, 



If by the careless plough thou shalt be torn ; 

 And many Herods lie in wait each hour 

 To murder thee as soon as thou art born 



Nay, force thy bud to blow their tyrant breath 



Anticipating life, to hasten death ! 



SIR RICHARD FANSHAWE. 



HOMELY SOUNDS AND ODOURS 



(From " The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table ") 



I DON'T believe any of you happen to have just the 

 same passion for the blue hyacinth which I have, 

 very certainly not for the crushed lilac-leaf-buds ; 

 many of you do not know how sweet they are. 

 You love the smell of the sweet-fern and the bay- 

 berry-leaves, I don't doubt ; but I hardly think 

 that the last bewitches you with young memories 

 as it does me. For the same reason I come back 



