134 THE ORCHIDS OF NEW ENGLAND. 
years, of a society for their protection. Unhappily, it is not 
always the ignorant pleasure-seeker who offends ; one can for- 
give him when he tramples underfoot the flower that has 
served to amuse him for the passing moment, but when it 
comes to a professed botanist, who with selfish motives uproots 
right and left and blots out name after name in the Flora of a 
locality, it should be his lot to be branded with a longer and 
more unflattering adjective than any he has written under the 
crumbling, graceless specimens in his herbarium. The axe and 
the drain-tile, too, will have their own way, and when we can 
no longer defend our favorites from the despoiler or remove 
them to some equally congenial swamp or forest, we canasa 
last resort give them, in our own gardens, the protection of 
fences, watch dogs, and city laws. 
CALYPSO. 
The sun-lit copse is passed, the shadows thicken, 
With bated breath I press 
Along the nariow path, now lost, now sighted, 
That threads the wilderness. 
Lest jealous bee or tattling wind give warning, 
And from her dewy glade 
The timid deity take flight to regions 
No mortal can invade. 
Not here nor there my wearied eyes behold her, 
(Dimmed by her spells, perchance), 
The fir-trees glower and the cedars brandish 
Their arms at my advance, 
Is this her shrine, where jeweled cobwebs tiemble, 
Silk curtains, rudely rent 
As at my step piofane the goddess hastened ? 
(These tender ferns are bent). 
