THE CACTUS SPECIOSISSIMUS. 33 



THE CACTUS SPECIOSIS 

 SIMUS. 



WHO hung thy beauty on such rugged stalk, 

 Thou glorious flower ? 



Who poured the richest hues, 

 In varying radiance, o er thine ample brow, 

 And, like a mesh, those tissued stamens laid 

 Upon thy crimson lip ? 



Thou glorious flower ! 

 Methinks it were no sin to worship thee, 

 Such passport hast thou from thy Maker s 



hand, 



To thrill the soul. Lone, on thy leafless stem, 

 Thou bidd st the queenly rose, with all her 



buds, 



Do homage, and the greenhouse peerage bow 

 Their rainbow coronets. 



Hast thou no thought ? 

 No intellectual life ? thou who can st wake 

 Man s heart to such communings ? no sweet 



word 

 With which to answer him ? T would almost 



seem 



