60 THE BOUQUET. 



For broader grew that crimson streak. 

 Back folds the leaf of green — 



And he in wonder still and meek 

 Watched all its opening sheen. 



" 'Tis done, 'tis done !" at length he cried. 

 With glad amazement wild — 



The Rose, in new created pride. 

 Had open'd for the child. 



Oh ! had we hearts like thine, sweet boy, 

 To watch Creative Power 



We too should thrill with kindred joy 

 At every opening flower. 



