ORCHIDS. 
Caffraria; foreigners from many lands, 
They form one social shade, as if conven’d 
By magic summons of the Orphean lyre. 
Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass 
But by a master’s hand, disposing well 
The gay diversities of leaf and flower, 
Must lend its aid t’ illustrate all their charms, 
And dress the regular, yet various scene. 
Plant behind plant aspiring; in the van 
The dwarfish, in the rear retir’d, but still 
Sublime above the rest, the statelier stand. 
Much yet remains 
Unsung, and many cares are yet behind, 
And more laborious; cares on which depend 
Their vigor, injured soon, not soon restored. 
The soil must be renew’d, which, often wash’d 
Loses its treasure of salubrious salts, 
And disappoints the roots; the slender roots 
Close interwoven, where they meet the vase 
Must smooth be shorn away; the sapless branch 
Must fly before the knife; the wither’d leaf 
Must be detach’d, and, where it strews the floor, 
Swept with a woman’s neatness, breeding else 
Contagion and disseminating death. 
Discharge but these kind offices (and who 
Would spare, that loves them, offices like these?), 
Well they repay the toil. The sight is pleas’d, 
The scent regal’d, each odorif’rous leaf, 
Each opening blossom, freely breathes abroad 
Its gratitude, and thanks him with its sweets. 
CowPeER. 
35 
