160 



THE YOUNG FLORIST. 



covered with pine boughs, to secure them from 

 the piercing cold of December. 



There was but little to interest the children 

 this month in the garden or fields ; for with the 

 exception of a few fine days, the weather was 

 cold and gloomy ; the verdure of the meadows 

 faded, the flowers perished, and the trees were 

 stripped of their foliage. This cheerless state 

 of nature suggested to Margaret's mind the 

 following well known 



LINES 



Suggested by the sight of some late Autumnal Floicers. 



1. These few pale autumn flowers, 



How beautiful they are ! 

 Than all that went before, 

 Than all the summer store, 



How lovelier far ? >, 



2. And why ? They are the last ! 



The last ! the last ! the last ! 

 O ! by that little word 

 How many thoughts are stirred ; 



That sister of the past ! 



3. Pale flowers ! pale perishing flowers ! 



Ye 're types of precious things ; 

 Types of those better moments 

 That flit like life's enjoyments, 



On rapid, rapid wings. 



