THE ENCHANTED PLANTS. 221 



" Why still deem Nature's laws perverse, 

 Who make her choicest gifts a curse ? 

 Feeling, whose shrine thy tears profane, 

 Is not the eternal nurse of pain. 



When rain and tempest rule the hours, 

 How sympathize the plants and flowers ? 

 The sun once more revives the plain, 

 They laugh with hope and joy again. 



** Mark pleasure's fascinating wiles, 

 And beauty's heart-illumined smiles ; 

 The eye's quick glancing rapture tells, 

 Unquestioned, where the angel dwells. 



t( Where points the moon-beam, dost thou see, 

 Near yon gray stone, a lofty tree ? 

 The Cypress, mourner of the grove, 

 Placed by the hand of widowed love ? 



" His grief with dignity he bears, 

 A dark and settled sorrow wears ; 

 Affects no attitudes of wo, 

 And scorns one trivial tear should flow. 

 19* 



