WATCH AND PRAY 



Her step seemed to pity the grass it prest; 

 You might hear by the heaving of her breast, 

 That the coming and the going of the wind 

 Brought pleasure there and left passion behind. 



***** 



I doubt not the flowers of that garden sweet 

 Rejoiced in the sound of her gentle feet; 

 I doubt not they felt the spirit that came 

 From her glowing fingers thro' all their frame. 



She sprinkled bright water from the stream 

 On those that were faint with the sunny beam; 

 And out of the cups of the heavy flowers 

 She emptied the rain of the thunder showers. 



She lifted their heads with her tender hands, 

 And sustained them with rods and osier bands; 

 If the flowers had been her own infants she 

 Could never have nursed them more tenderly. 

 PERCY B. SHELLEY. 



The Sensitive Plant. 



[157] 



