From THE TASK. 



Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too. 

 Unconscious of a less propitious clime, 

 There blooms exotic beauty, warm and snug, 

 While the winds whistle and the snows descend. 

 The spiry myrtle, with unwithering leaf. 

 Shines there, and flourishes. The golden boast 

 Of Portugal and Western India there. 

 The ruddier orange, and the paler lime, 

 Peep through their polish'd foliage at the storm, 

 And seem to smile at what they need not fear. 

 The amomum there with intermingling flowers 

 And cherries hangs her twigs. Geranium boasts 

 Her crimson honours, and the spangled bean, 

 Ficoides, glitters bright the winter long. 

 All plants, of every leaf, that can endure 

 The winter's frown, if screen'd from his shrewd bite, 

 Live there and prosper. 



Cowper, 



