THE MINISTRY OF FLOWERS. 115 



THE MINISTRY OF FLOWERS. 



FLOWERS ! Flowers ! the poetry of eHrth, 



Impulsive, pure, and wild; : * 

 With what a strange delight they fill 



The wandering, mirthful child ; 

 It clasps their leaflets close a while, 



Then strews them wide around ; 

 For life hath nany a joy to spare 



Along its opening bound. 



The maiden twines them in her hair, 



And, mid that shining braid, 

 How fair the violet s eye of blue, 



And the faint rose-bud s shade, 

 Upon her polish d neck they blush, 



In her soft hand they shine, 

 And better crown those peerless charms 



Than all Golconda s mine. 



