LOVE-IN-IDLENESS. 
In gardens oft a beauteous flower there grows, 
By vulgar eyes unnoticed and unseen ; 
In sweet security it humbly blows, 
Aud rears its purple head to deck the green. 
This flower, as Nature’s poet sweetly sings, 
Was once milk-white, and Heart’s-ease was its name, 
Till wanton Cupid poised his roseate wings, 
A vestal’s sacred bosom to inflame. 
With treacherous aim the god his arrow drew, 
Which she with icy coldness did repel ; 
Rebounding thence Avith feathery speed it flew, 
Till on this lovely flower, at last, it fell. 
ITeart’s-ease no more the wandering shepherds found ; 
No more the nymphs its snowy form possess ; 
Its Avhite iioav changed to \purple by Love’s wound, 
ITeart’s-ease no more, — ’t is Love-in-idleness. 
MBS. SHERIDAN. 
