44 TO A BUNCH OF FLOWERS. 



Gift of gold or jewel dresses, 



Ostentation's thought confesses ; 



Simplest mind this boon may give, 



Modesty herself receive. 



For lovely woman you were meant 



The just and natural ornament, 



Sleeping on her bosom fair, 



Hiding in her raven hair, ^ 



Or, peeping out mid golden curls, 



You outshine barbaric pearls ; 



Yet you lead no thought astray, 



Feed not pride nor vain display, 



Nor disturb her sisters' rest, 



Waking envy in their breast. 



Let the rich, with heart elate, 



Pile their board with costly plate ; 



Richer ornaments are ours, 



Wo will dress our home with flowers ; 



Yet no terror need we feel 



Lest the thief break through to steal. 



Ye are playthings for the child, 



Gifts of love for maiden mild, 



Comfort for the aged eye, 



For the poor, cheap luxury. 



