ARBOR DA Y MANUAL, 



279 



THE FLOWER OF THE DESERT. 



Who does not recollect the exultation of Valiant over a flower in the torrid wastes 

 of Africa ? The affecting mention of the influence of a flower upon the mind, by Mungo 

 Park, in a time of suffering and despondency, in the heart of the same savage country, 

 is familiar to every one." Flc-nitfs Book of the Seasons. 



WHY art thou thus in thy beauty cast, 

 O lonely, loneliest flower ! 

 Where the sound of song hath never passed 

 From human hearth or bower ? 



Yes ! dews more sweet than ever fell 



O'er island of the blest 

 Were shaken forth, from its purple bell. 



On a suffering human breast. 



I pity thee, for thy heart of love, " A wanderer came, as a stricken deer, 



For that glowing heart, that fain O'er the waste of burning sand, 



Would breathe out joy with each wind to rove He bore the wound of an Arab spear, 

 In vain, lost thing ! in vain ! He fled from a ruthless band. 



I pity thee, for thy wasted bloom, 

 For thy glory's fleeting hour, 



For the desert place, thy living tomb 

 O, lonely, loneliest flower ! 



I said but a low voice made reply, 



" Lament not for the flower ! 

 Though its blossoms all unmarked must die, 

 They have had a glorious dower. 



"Though it bloom afar from the minstrel's 



way, 



And the paths where lovers tread ; 

 Yet strength and hope, like an inborn day, 

 By its odors have been shed. 



'And dreams of home in a troubled tide 



Swept o'er his darkening eye, 

 As he lay down by the fountain side, 

 In his mute despair to die. 



' But his glance was caught by the desert's 



flower, 



The precious boon of Heaven ; 



And sudden hope, like a vernal shower, 



To his fainting heart was given. 



' For the bright flower spoke of One above 



Of the presence felt to brood, 

 With a spirit of pervading love, 

 O'er the wildest solitude. 



O, the seed was thrown those wastes among 

 In a blessed and gracious hour, 



For the lorn rose in heart made strong, 

 By the lonely, loneliest flower !" 



MRS. HEMANS. 



FAIR TREE! 



Fair tree ! for thy delightful shade 

 *Tis just that some return be made ; 

 Sure some return is due from me 

 To thy cool shadows and to thee. 

 When thou to birds dost shelter give, 

 Thou music dost from them receive ; 

 If travelers beneath thee stay 



Till storms have worn themselves away, 

 That time in praising thee they spend, 

 And thy protecting power commend ; 

 The shepherd here from scorching freed, 

 Tunes to thy dancing leaves his reed, 

 Whilst his loved nymph in thanks bestows 

 Her flowery chaplets on her boughs. 



LADY WINCHELSEA. The Tree. 



