flora’s dial. 87 
June 23. 
BASQUE FLOWER. — I have no claims. 
I seem to myself an unsightly weed, 
Growing up in a bright parterre, 
Where the perfume of flow;ers is silently shed 
On the wings of the balmy air. 
The high trees are waving above, and around, 
Whose branches with happy notes ring, 
While ’neath them a shade for the weary is found, 
But I am a vain useless thing. 
Oh, why was I placed here ? No pleasure I yield ; 
None look upon me with delight ; 
More fitting for me, were some wild, barren field, 
Than a garden so blooming and bright. 
Lowell Offering. (Y. M.) 
Smw 24. 
HEMP. — Fate 
Oh ! far on Being’s shores, where dimly lower 
The mists of guilt before the sunniest light, 
I feel myself by some resistless power, 
Swiftly impelled, nor see my way aright. 
Groping, confused, I seek my destination, — 
May ne’er my feeble strength Sin’s forces aid ; 
Nor be it mine to scatter desolation 
On aught that He, the Holy One hath made. 
Miss Larcom. 
