110 VOICE OF FLOWERS. 



CHANGES DURING SICKNESS. 



I BOW D me down amid the race of life, 



And let the fever-spirit have its will. 



With wrench and screw the tissued nerves it 



tried, 

 And held from sleep the strained and burning 



eye, 



So that the soft-voic d watcher s toil was vain. 

 Two weeks passed by, and then His healing 



love, 



Who knows the weakness of this mortal frame 

 Which He hath fashioned, bade me take my 



place 

 Again among the living. 



Strange and new 



Seemed every wonted object. All around 

 Change had been busy. Boldly up had sprung, 

 Even to the eaves, the rich Convolvolus, 

 So long with patience water d, even and morn. 

 Its clustering floral bells, profoundly blue, 



