GOSSIP WITH A SPRING BOUQUET. 49 



From some wise grandame. of your ances 

 tors, 



Who on the margin of my native Thames 

 Flourished, more vigorous and more fair than 



you ? 



Twas not the fond garrulity of age, 

 That made her laud the past, without respect 

 To verity ; for I remember well 

 How beautiful they were, and with what pride 

 I used to pluck them, when my school was 



o er, 

 And love to place them, rich with breathing 



sweets, 



Between my Bible-leaves, and find them there 

 Month after month, pressing their bosoms close 

 To some undying hope. 



Bright Hyacinth, 

 I m glad you ve brought your little ones. How 



snug 



You wrap them in their hoods. But still I see 

 Their merry eyes and their plump cheeks 



peep out. 



Ah ! here s the baby, in its blanket too : 

 You re a good mother, sure. Don t be in haste 

 To take their mantles off; the morn is chill; 

 I d rather see them one by one come forth, 

 I Just when they please. A charming family ! 



