CIRCLE OF FRIENDS, ETC. 71 



Cramp d by the unyielding chains of Saxon 



verse, 



Suits not the Roman proverb, boldly terse ; 

 Still more unworthy is this pencil faint, 

 Thy many virtues, lenient Sage, to paint. 



And thou, Geranium, half exotic, say, 



Why art thou from the ancestral halls away ? 



Thou need st no gift that nature did not lend, 



Or art improve, or cultivation blend : 



Yet if ,thou better lov st a sunnier sky, 



Breathe there the fragrance that can never 



die. 



The meek Narcissus next invites our care, 

 With fragile stalk and efflorescence fair, 

 W T hich anxious friendship fears will scarce en 

 dure 



The world s contagion, with a brow so pure ; 

 Yet this, perchance, may bear the dangerous 



test, 

 For heaven s own spirit lives within its breast. 



Lure from its home, mid green Vermonia s 



plain, 



The English Holly to our classic train, 

 That fearless, firm, and scorning all disguise, 

 Where er it dwells, points upward to the skies. 



