30 
ORCHIDS. 
Sweets of the wild! uncultured blowing, 
Neglected in luxuriance glowing; 
From the dark ruins frowning near, 
Your charms in brighter tints appear, 
And richer blush assume; 
You smile with softer beauty crown’d, 
Whilst all is desolate around, 
Like sunshine on a tomb! 
Thou hear’st the zephyrs murmuring, dying; 
Thou hear’st the foliage waving, sighing, 
But ne’er again shall harp or song, 
These dark deserted courts along, 
Disturb thy calm repose: 
The harp is broke, the song is fled, 
The voice is hush’d, the bard is dead: 
And never shall thy tones repeat, 
Or lofty strain, or carol sweet, 
With plaintive close! 
Nor wilt thou, Spring! refuse to breathe 
Soft odors on this desert air; 
Refuse to twine thine earliest wreath, 
And fringe these towers with garlands fair! 
Sweets of the wild, oh! ever bloom 
Unheeded on this ivied wall! 
Lend to the gale a rich perfume, 
And grace the ruin in its fall! 
Thus, round Misfortune’s holy head 
Would Pity wreaths of honor spread; 
Like you, thus blooming on this lonely pile, 
She seeks despair, with heart-reviving smile! 
Mrs. HEMANS. 
