THE POEST OF FLOWERS. 



NIGHT-BLOWING CEREUS. 



Strange flower! oh, beautifully strange! 



Why in the lonely night, 

 And to the quiet watching stars, 



Spread 'st thou thy petals white? 



There 's sleep among the breathing flowers, 



The folded leaves all rest 

 Child, butterfly, and bee are hushed 



The wood-bird 's in its nest. 



Thou wak'st alone of earth's bright things, 



A silent watch is thine, 

 Offering thy incense, yotive gift, 



Unto night's starry shrine. 



Morn glows, and thou art gone for aye, 



As bow of summer cloud; 

 Like thy sister flower of Araby,* 



Thou unto death hast bowed. 



Once flowering, wilt thou never more 



Give thy pale beauty back? 

 O, canst thou not thy fragrance pour 



Upon the sunbeam's track ? 



Thou flower of summer's starlit night, 



When whispering farewell, 

 Bear'st thou a hope, from this dim world, 



Mid brighter things to dwell ? 



Thou hast unsealed my thought's deep fount, 



My hope as thine shall be, 

 And my heart's incense I will breathe 



To Heaven, bright flower, with thee. 



Anne Hope. 



Gum CertM of Arabia which sheds h* flowen u scon u 

 they are blown. 



