FLORA S PARTY. 27 



For the true-hearted soul deem d a weather- 

 stained face, 



Or a toil-harden d hand, were no marks of dis 

 grace. 



Then he beckon d his nieces to rise from their 

 seat, 



The plump Dandelion, and Butter-cup neat, 



And bade them to &quot; pack up their duds, and 

 away, 



He believ d in his heart twas the break of 

 the day. 



&quot; And high time it is, for good people,&quot; said 

 he, 



&quot; At home, and in bed, with their households 

 to be.&quot; 



Twas indeed very late, and the coaches 

 were brought, 



For the grave matron flowers of their nur 

 series thought ; 



The lustre was dimmed of each drapery rare, 



And the lucid young brows looked beclouded 

 with care ; 



All, save the bright Cereus, that nymph so 

 divine, 



Who preferr d through the curtains of midnight 

 to shine : 



