THE WINGED PASSION-FLOWER. 
Beneath tlie covert of overarching trees 
Bright Murucuia* woos the cooling breeze, 
The passing Indian turns the admiring eye, 
Smit by the glories of her crimson dye, 
And stops in pleas’d attention, to survey 
Her vivid leaves and variegated ray. — 
But loftier thoughts the rising mind inspire 
When warm devotion lends her holy fire. 
Haply amid the convent’s virgin train, 
Bosom’d in shades beyond the western main, 
At rosy morn, or evening’s silent hour, 
Some fair enthusiast views the sainted flower : 
When, lo ! to rapt imagination’s eye 
Springs the sad scene of darken’d Calvary ! 
The thorny crown the heavenly brows around, 
The scourging thongs, the galling cords that bound, 
And nails that pierced with agonizing wound. 
Sudden she lifts to heaven her ardent eye 
In silent gaze and solemn ecstacy ; 
Then, filled with timid hope and holy fear, 
Drops on the flower a consecrated tear. 
SIIAW. 
* The ancient American name of the flower. 
